


Saving the Last Hope

by Aaveena



Series: Saving the Last Hope Universe [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Canon pregnancy, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Darth Dad, Darth Vader's A+ Grandparenting, Darth Vader's A+ parenting, Drinking, Enemies to Family Members, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Family Reunions, Fight-Flirting, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Happy Ending, He's a Ray of Human Sunshine, I Don't Know How Space Ships Work, Kylo Struggles to Keep the Timeline in Check, Kylo's Gonna Have a Bad Time, Luke Skywalker is a Puppy in a Poncho, Mention of pregnancy, Multi, Near Criminal Levels of Dramatic Irony, Or Space Travel, POV Multiple, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Probably Too Many Flash Backs, Rey is Not a Palpatine, Romantic Hair Braiding, Skywalker Family Drama, Team Cinnamon Roll, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Time Travel, but i try
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 228,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaveena/pseuds/Aaveena
Summary: “Rey, I’m not – I’m not delirious. That -” He points towards the blond boy on the other side of the rocky enclosure, still passed out but now stirring fitfully. Kylo’s hand is shaking as he gestures desperately towards his young uncle. “That’s Luke.” He chokes out past the lump in his throat.---Kylo Ren and Rey find themselves in the desert on Tatooine in 0 BBY. When Obi Wan Kenobi dies long before he is supposed to, it is up to Kylo to make sure the timeline stays the way it should, or else risk never being born. Of course, Darth Vader, who has sensed not only a great disturbance in the Force, but also the death of his former master, is not going to make things easy for Kylo. How will Kylo deal with being forced to work against his beloved grandfather?Super fun and non-traumatic family reunions, time travel hi-jinx, and confusion ensue!Updates Every Other Sunday!E-Rated chapters linked as separate parts.
Relationships: Ben Solo & Ahsoka Tano, Han Solo & Ben Solo, Kylo Ren & Darth Vader, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Leia Organa & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Rey & Han Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Saving the Last Hope Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872205
Comments: 1648
Kudos: 1515
Collections: All Time Travel All the time





	1. Hello There!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 💕LOVE💕 time travel fics and have been spending the last little while trying to find a fic where Kylo/ Ben and Rey go back to the rebellion era, but I haven't been able to find any! (If you have any recommendations, please let me know!) I figured why not write my own? Well, I think I understand now why exactly there are so few fics of this kind out there 😂, but I'm pretty happy with what I've got so far and what I've got planned for the future. I've had a blast writing this so I hope you enjoy! 😊💕

✨✨✨

One minute Kylo Ren is sitting in on a meeting with his generals, discussing possible locations of the Resistance’s new base – not that Kylo cares, especially, about finding them at this point, considering the entire operation could fit inside of that flying pile of scrap metal, the _Millennium Falcon_ , when they fled Crait. The next minute, he’s in the middle of a desert, sand shifting under his feet, sun beating down and baking him under his layers of thick, black clothing.

He's not alone. She is here, the scavenger, _Rey_. He ignores the way his chest tightens at the sight of her for the first time in the months since their encounter on the _Supremacy_. He ignores the want, no, the need to take a step towards her, to close the distance between them. Instead, he focuses on the swirling emotions of betrayal and abandonment that accompany her memory.

She hasn’t noticed him yet and he makes no sound, just watches her greedily. She cranes her neck, searching for something… or maybe someone? Who? The traitor? The pilot? His mo – the general? The thought that she is looking, waiting for someone else fills Kylo with a familiar, nearly all consuming, possessive jealousy. Still, he says nothing, just curls his hands into tight fists. He can only just hear the leather of his gloves cracking over the wind.

Rey whips around, maybe having felt his spike of emotion through the bond they share. Her eyes widen at the sight of him and then narrow angrily, murderously. The corner of Kylo’s lips twitch upward at the sight, at the way she so easily draws on her anger.

“ _You_!” She growls, her feet parting, her knees bending into a defensive stance. Her lightsaber – his grandfather’s lightsaber, now repaired, he notices – is strapped to her hip. Her fingers twitch towards the hilt. Kylo does not move. “What is going on?”

“Where are you?” Kylo asks impassively. He looks around the desert spread before him. Rocky hills and cliffs dot the sandy expanse and line the horizon. He’s never been here before, is this somewhere on Jakku? Why would she return here?

“As if I would tell you that!” She spits.

“I’ve never been able to see your surroundings before.” He says ignoring the venom in her tone. He nearly smiles when his comment trips her up as much as he had hoped it would. Her eyes widen, searching around them and she takes a step back.

“You can see them now?”

“Is this where you’re hiding? I have to say, I’m not impressed.” He folds his arms and he ignores the sweat beginning to drip from his temple.

Kylo’s brow furrows as Rey’s fear and confusion dissolves into a wicked smile.

“Well, I can see your surroundings too.”

Kylo nearly takes his own step back at that. She can? He had been in the middle of a very sensitive meeting, if she were to overhear anything…

“You can?” He asks, schooling his tone into one of bored curiosity and not nervous fear.

“What are you doing in the middle of the desert? You’re not exactly dressed for it.” She shakes her head and practically rolls her eyes.

“Wait… what?” It takes a moment for her words to catch up with his brain which is still very concerned with her overhearing sensitive First Order information. She though _he_ had been in this desert? “I – I wasn’t.” He stammers, embarrassingly, but the words just won’t come out smoothly. “I thought you were…”

“No, I was… No! You aren’t going to trick me, I’m not telling you where we are.” She grabs her lightsaber now, the blue blade humming to life in her hands, though she makes no move against him – not yet, anyway.

“I’m not trying to trick you.” He says, throwing up his hands in a placating manner. Though his blood sings for a fight at the sight of her saber, he is much more interested in finding out what is going on. “I was on my ship one minute and the next I’m here… with you.”

“No,” Rey shakes her head even though she must sense the truth in his words, ever the master of self-delusion. “You’re lying.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Rey.” Kylo implores. It’s the truth, he’s never lied to her before, why would he need to? He hopes that this basic truth with soothe her, but it has the opposite effect. Her face is a wash of pain and anger.

“That’s not true,” She snarls.

 _You told me I wasn’t alone._ Creeps through the bond and twists in Kylo’s gut like a knife.

Hadn’t she told him the same thing? She was the one who left him, and she has the gall to be angry with _him_? After he offered her everything? After he offered her his heart on a platter, and she crushed it in front of him? He feels his face settle into a grimace.

Rey’s feet shift and while Kylo has no desire to fight her his fingers twitch nearby where he knows his lightsaber to be. Before either of them can make a move, they are distracted by a figure near a rock formation to Kylo’s right. He does draw his saber at that, the red cross guard blade screaming to life.

An older man wearing brown and tan desert robes, his hair and beard turned white by age, stares the two of them down shrewdly. His blue-eyed gaze flicking from Rey to her blade to Kylo to his. The man’s body language is stiff, defensive.

“What’s going on here?” The man asks, his voice is crisp and clear with a Coruscanti accent similar to Rey’s.

“Nothing that concerns you, old man.” Kylo says extending his right arm, looking down his saber at the stranger.

“Who are the two of you?” The man asks, seemingly not cowed by Kylo’s blade.

“Your Supreme Leader,” Kylo growls, his very limited patience waning.

“My Supreme what?” The man asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

“You will turn around and go home now.” Rey says, one hand raised towards the older man, her tone calm and influential.

The old man laughs lightly and shakes his head.

“That won’t work on me, dear.”

“ _Leave_.” Kylo warns murderously.

“Who sent you?” The old man asks to Kylo directly.

“No one.” Kylo says shaking his head.

“What are you here for?” The man asks. He is still addressing Kylo but takes a step towards Rey.

“Stay away from her!” Kylo snarls, his red blade following the man. “Leave, I won’t warn you again!”

The man narrows his eyes and takes another step towards Rey and Kylo lunges, launching himself up in the air and swinging down powerfully at the old man. He can hear Rey calling for him to stop but pays her no mind. In one fluid motion, the old man pulls something from beneath his robes, the blue blade of a lightsaber sings to life and blocks Kylo’s swing.

The old man pushes back against Kylo’s blade and swings his own up. The man’s strikes are quick and precise. Kylo is forced back on the defensive, blocking each strike with force until he loses his footing and stumbles backwards into the sand. Clearly, this is not just some desert hermit who had found an ancient Jedi weapon. This man is trained, and well.

Kylo regains his balance but does not charge at the old man again, instead, he begins to circle him, his red blade stretched outward towards his opponent. The old man spins his blade around in a circle in front of his body.

“Stand behind me, dear.” The old man says to Rey as he steps in front of her. “Sith are my specialty.”

“What?” Rey askes. She blinks at the man looking completely and utterly confused. “Kylo’s not a Sith.” Kylo nearly flinches at her use of his chosen name and he doesn’t know why.

“Who are you?” Kylo spits at the man. He can sense the man is strong with the Force, though he had been hiding it earlier.

“I don’t believe that concerns you.” The man says with a teasing smile. “Now, tell me, where did you come from and why are you here.”

“We don’t know why we’re here.” Rey said from behind the man with frustrating honesty.

“ _Rey_.” Kylo hisses.

“Wait,” The old man says, turning his head for just a second to steal a glance back at Rey. “Are the two of you together?”

“Yes.” Kylo answers at the same time Rey spits “No!”

“Well, now I’m quite confused.” The man eyes Kylo with intensity. His clear blue eyes appraising. He sighs. “Can we all put our weapons down and talk calmly for a moment?”

“You first.” Kylo says lowly.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” The man says with a smile. Kylo only narrows his eyes at the man and adjusts his hold on the hilt of his blade.

“Oh, Kylo,” Rey sighs, exasperated. “Just put your lightsaber away.”

“You drew yours first,” He reminds her with a glare but disengages his lightsaber all the same. Rey and the man follow suit, though all three of them keep their hilts in their hands at the ready.

“Now, who are the two of you?” The man asks, taking a small step back so that he can keep an eye on both Kylo and Rey.

“I’m Rey,” Rey says with an awkward half smile. Kylo says nothing and Rey rolls her eyes. “And he calls himself Kylo Ren.” She gestures over to him.

“Who are you?” Kylo asks, setting his jaw.

“My name is Ben.” The man says, his shoulders tense. He looks between Kylo and Rey as if expecting some sort of reaction.

Kylo has no reaction because that name means nothing to him. He sees Rey glance at him out of the corner of his eye. The look only lasts for a fleeting moment, but for that moment he is back in the elevator on the _Supremacy_ where she first called him by that name.

“Well, Ben,” Rey begins politely if a bit awkwardly. “Can I ask you where we are?”

“I thought you said the two of you weren’t together?” Ben asks, quirking one eyebrow curiously.

“We’re – it’s complicated.” Rey sighs. “What planet is this?”

“What planet… you don’t know what planet you’re on?” Ben asks, shaking his head in confusion.

“Do _you_ know?” Kylo asks tightening his fists.

“Tatooine.” Ben answers slowly, shooting Kylo a suspicious glance.

Kylo lets out a sound between a growl and a sigh and runs one gloved hand through his hair which is now thoroughly saturated with sweat. Of course, the Force would send him here. What was it with his family and this damned sand planet?

“If that’s all, we’ll be going.” He inclines his head, gesturing for Rey to follow but she merely furrows her brow at him.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Ben says with a dark laugh. Kylo feels the tendrils of the Force wrap around his form, holding him in place but breaks the hold easily.

“What are you?” He snaps at Ben, rounding on the older man.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Ben says, clearly unimpressed with Kylo. The old man’s face then grows deathly serious. “Did the Empire send you?”

“The Empire?” Rey asks the man with a bemused laugh.

“How long have you been buried in the sand, old man?” Kylo asks, shaking his head. Yes, Tatooine was practically a nowhere planet, a dust ball of little consequence, but the Empire had been dead for nearly thirty years by this point. Did the old man mean to say First Order? Had he mixed the two governments up in his old age?

“Answer my question.” Ben says, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” Kylo responds tightly. “The _Empire_ didn’t send us.”

“I can sense you’re telling the truth,” The old man says, his genuine confusion returning. “Where did the two of you come from? What are you doing here?”

“We are here by mistake.” Kylo says through gritted teeth, growing increasingly more tired of the old hermit’s interrogations. “A mistake I would greatly like to correct as soon as possible, so if you could just point us in the direction of the closest town, we will be on our way.”

“I can’t just let you leave.” Ben says, shaking his head, his fingers tightening around his lightsaber hilt. Kylo sighs, why did the hermit have to make this so difficult? Just as it seems the old man is going to ignite his lightsaber, he turns his head. “Something is very wrong.” He says the distress in his voice plain.

The older man turns quickly and speeds off behind the rock feature from whence he had come. Kylo looks over at Rey who seems just as stunned and lost for words as he is. A sound like the wailing of a great, horrible animal echoes through the hills surrounding them but is cut short by a ragged, pained moan.

“What was that?” Rey breathes.

“I don’t particularly care.” Kylo says impassively. “We should try to find…” He starts to say, but Rey is already running around the rockface and down into the valley where Ben had disappeared. “Rey!” Kylo calls after her, following at a brisk pace that was just short of running.

When Kylo rounds the corner, he takes in the scene unfolding before him. Ben is laying in the dirt halfway down the slope leading into the valley below, Rey crouching by his side. Kylo can see from here that the old man is breathing, but only just. A dozen humanoid creatures wearing tan robes are attacking a rusty red and silver landspeeder at the base of the slope, there may be another person down there as well but Kylo cannot see properly from where he is standing. A couple of the creatures, their faces completely covered by tan rag-like masks with only small, black goggles to see through, are approaching Rey and Ben, their weapon’s brandished.

Kylo ignites his lightsaber and makes quick work of the approaching creatures, one of whom calls a warning out to his comrades in a language Kylo does not understand. A few of the creatures at the bottom of the slope begin firing projectiles at Kylo who freezes them with the Force and sends the deadly blasts back to their owners. Some of the creatures flee in a panic, those that don’t lie dead in the sand.

Kylo rushes back to Rey’s side. She is crouched over Ben’s prone body, one hand clutching one of the old man’s and the other applying pressure to a gaping wound in the man’s chest. Blood has saturated the Ben’s tan robes and his face is as white as a sheet. Kylo looks at Rey, sensing her distress.

 _There’s nothing we can do for him._ He tells her as gently as possible through the bond.

“You think I don’t know that?” She hisses out loud, tears in her eyes. Kylo, for the life of him, cannot reason why she is crying. She had only just met this man, was she like this every time someone died?

“No…” The old man gurgled, blood spurting from his mouth with the word, the red liquid dribbling down his chin and into his white beard. Rey, unnecessarily, takes a bit of the man’s robes and wipes up the spittle. “Luke… Luke…” Ben coughs, his head rolling side to side. He tries to get up but fails.

“No,” Rey whispers gently. “Save your energy.”

 _For what?_ Kylo thinks, shaking his head nearly imperceptibly. There was nothing that could save this man now short of Force healing, something Kylo had never learned to do and doubted Rey knew with her lack of training.

Ben’s breathing is a ragged, horrible thing and for a moment, Kylo wonders if the merciful thing would be to drive his lightsaber through the man, end his suffering, but just as the thought occurs to him the man stops breathing and goes limp, falling back into blood-soaked sand. His blue eyes are still open, but they are cold and unseeing now.

“Should we… bury him?” Rey asks, not looking up at Kylo at all.

“No,” Kylo scoffs, shaking his head, his sweat drenched hair falling into his eyes.

Just as Rey looks up at him, fury blazing in her eyes, the old man’s body fades from existence. It only takes a moment or two and suddenly, the only proof he had been there at all is the pile of bloody robes left on the rocks.

“What just happened?” Rey asks, her eyes wide, pleading Kylo for answers he simply doesn’t have.

“I – I’m not quite sure.” He stammers.

Without understanding why, he reaches down and picks up the man’s lightsaber and inspects the hilt. The build is so familiar, it almost looks just like… He clips it to his belt next to his own.

Standing, Kylo looks down into the valley. Surely, there had to be a town not too far from here – or at least, he hopes it would not be too far. At least they have a speeder now, they can take that and find a ship and get off of this desert-hell, never mind how they got here.

Rey stands beside him, though she is careful to keep a good distance between them. She is stood on top of a rock outcropping and towers over Kylo. She brings her hand up to her eyes to block out the light of the suns and gasps in shock.

“There’s someone down there!” She cries as she begins hopping down from rock to rock, descending into the valley below. Kylo’s heart catches every time she lands, worried that she will lose her footing, break her neck, but climbing seems to be second nature to Rey. Kylo skids down a far safer path behind her.

There _is_ someone by the speeder, as he descends, Kylo can just make out a mop of golden-blond hair and an off-white tunic. The figure is definitely human and definitely a man – or a boy, more like, though Kylo cannot make anything else out from where he is. Rey kneels beside the man and looks at him strangely, quirking her brow and scrunching her nose – not in disgust, but in confusion, curiosity.

“Is he dead?” Kylo asks, still descending the slope, his steps slow and careful as to not slip on the unfamiliar terrain.

“No, just knocked out.” Rey says her mind clearly elsewhere. “I think he’s alright, It’s strange, but…” She trails off.

“But what?” Kylo asks as he makes his way around the speeder.

He looks at the boy, who does appear to be physically unharmed. He has a young, fresh face – he’s most likely a teenager, perhaps just into adulthood. His skin is tanned from working out in the desert suns. His eyes are closed, so there’s no way to tell what color they are, but Kylo doesn’t need to see them to know what color they are. He knows the exact shade of blue because he knows this man.

Kylo could swear his heart has stopped. He reels back, bracing himself on the jagged rockface behind him, leather covered fingers gripping at the rough surface of the warm, brown stone, gripping for an anchor.

He’s asleep, he has to be. He’s dozed off during the meeting and instead of his usual nightmares, he is being plagued by the vision of his teenage uncle lying at the foot of a speeder on Tatooine. He can’t breathe, or, more accurately, he can, but the breaths are coming in far too quickly and his head is spinning.

“Kylo?” Rey says standing, concern in her voice and on her face. She takes one step towards him and he hardly notices. “Ben?” She whispers, and oh, that makes it worse. He inhales sharply and can’t breathe it out fast enough.

“Please, you need to calm down, you’re going to pass out.” She implores.

“That’s…” Kylo begins but can’t finish the sentence. If that is his uncle… The old man… Ben… Tatooine… the Empire. No, this couldn’t be happening. “We’re…” He gasps.

Kylo is so lost in his own winding, impossible thoughts that he doesn’t even notice until his belt, cloak and gloves are in a pile on the ground by his feet and Rey is pulling his tunic up over his head that she is undressing him.

“Wh – What are you doing?” He stammers softly, his lower jaw trembling, his face is covered in a thick layer of sweat at this point.

“You’re suffering from heatstroke,” She says as she lifts his outer layer over his head and throws it to the ground. She then moves on to his arm guards. “You’ll kill yourself out here in all these layers.”

The angry, vicious little creature that lives in Kylo’s mind wants him to snap at her, to ask her why she would care if he lives or dies, but he says nothing. He allows his body to be limp and pliant and allows her to remove his excess layers until he is stripped down to just a thin black tunic, trousers and boots. She pulls on his arm, urging him to follow her and he does without a word and without taking his eyes off of his sleeping uncle.

“We need to get you out of the heat.” She says softly, leading him into a crevasse in the rockface and sitting him down in the shade. “I’m going to go see if I can find some… _Artoo_?”

Kylo hadn’t even noticed the silver and blue astromech droid also using this shelter as a hiding spot. The driod beeps in confusion.

“What? Of course, I know you, what are you doing here?” Rey asks kneeling down. She reaches out to place a hand on the droid’s domed head, but he rolls backward. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Rey!” Kylo gasps, clarity returning to him, perhaps temporarily. He reaches out and grasps her arm with his ungloved hand and ignores how it simultaneously feels like touching a live wire and a cool bath of water.

“What?” She asks turning to him, eyes wide. “Are you… what’s going on?”

“Rey,” He repeats. “I think… that kid out there… We’re in the past.” He chokes on the words.

Rey stares at him blankly for a moment and blinks slowly. She stands, his limp grip on her arm faltering, and looks down on him with concern.

“Oh, it’s worse than I thought.”

“No!” Kylo calls after her as she leaves the shelter. His arm follows her, but he does not rise from his spot, he’s not entirely sure he could.

Rey returns after a moment dragging a limp Luke Skywalker into the shady shelter and propping him up against the wall across from Kylo. She leaves again and reappears with a canteen and rag.

“I didn’t want the sun to get to him too.” Rey explains as she pours a bit of the water onto the rag. “But we’ve got to get you cooled down.”

She presses the cool, damp rag to Kylo’s forehead and it feels like heaven, but he has to make her understand. He reaches up and grabs her wrist. His grip is not tight, but she stops moving all the same. They just stare at each other for a long moment.

“Rey, please listen to me.” Kylo says, his voice hardly more than a whisper. Rey just shoves the canteen to his lips.

“You need to drink.”

Cold, blessed water pours into Kylo’s mouth. He drinks greedily for a moment, nearly forgetting what he had needed to tell Rey that was so important and then a soft groan comes from where Luke is sitting. Kylo sputters and water spills down his front.

“Rey, I’m not – I’m not delirious. That -” He points towards the blond boy on the other side of the rocky enclosure, still passed out but now stirring fitfully. Kylo’s hand is shaking as he gestures desperately towards his young uncle. “That’s _Luke_.” He chokes out past the lump in his throat.

“ _What_?” Rey hisses. She scrambles on hands and knees over to where Luke is lying against the rocks. She hovers over him and pushes a bit of golden fringe out of his face. “I thought…” She breathes, leaning back and away from the young man. “I thought he looked familiar.” She turns back to Kylo. “This isn’t real, right?”

“Oh, thank the Maker!” Kylo cringes at the prim and painfully familiar voice coming from the entrance of the rocky crevasse. “Master Luke, I’m so glad I – Oh, dear, Master Luke.” The golden protocol droid faces Rey. “Is he alright?”

“I think so, Threepio.” Rey mumbles, her eyes glazing over, staring out not at the droid or at Kylo’s uncle or at anything at all, really.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss.” C-3PO says, stopping short. “Do I know you?”

“Oh, uh…”

“What…” Everyone stops talking, their focus solely on Luke who is now rubbing his head and grimacing. “What happened?”

“Master Luke!” C-3PO exclaims, throwing his golden arms up into the air. “I was so worried for you, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Luke says, shaking his head a bit, his blond hair bobbing along with the movement. He looks up, his focus switching from the protocol droid to Rey to Kylo. “Who – who are you?”

“Oh, um… we -” Rey starts, but is cut off by an enthusiastic C-3PO.

“Our heroes, sir! They saved us from those horrible sand people, I saw them myself!”

“Is that true?” Luke asks.

“Well, I suppose,” Rey says, clearly uncomfortable – whether with being called a hero or being in the past, Kylo cannot tell. “What were you doing out here all by yourself?”

“I was trying to catch up with that astromech.” Luke explains, gesturing a frustrated hand towards R2D2 who has hidden himself further in the shadows. “He’s looking for an Obi Wan Kenobi, I thought that Old Ben Kenobi might know of him, and I was _gonna_ ask,” He adds, looking pointedly at the droid. “Before you ran off!”

R2D2 beeps a soft apology.

“Apparently this Obi Wan used to be his master and he has a message for him, he won’t show it to me though.” Luke says, blowing a bit of blond hair out of his face in irritation. “Well, anyway, we were attacked by those raiders, as you saw. Thank you, by the way.”

Rey nods, acknowledging Luke’s thanks, Kylo just glares at the young man.

“Is he alright?” Luke asks Rey gesturing towards Kylo, his voice a whisper.

“Oh, him?” Rey asks, craning her neck to look back at Kylo and shooting him an admonishing stare when she sees his grimace. “He’s fine, that’s just how he is.”

“Well,” Luke says, standing and wiping the sand from his clothes. “Thank you again, but I should probably head home, my aunt and uncle will be worried if I’m away too long… do you know what time it is?”

“No, sorry,” Rey says with an awkward shrug.

Kylo throws his head back, resting it against the rocky surface. _Why_ were he and Rey here, and why did this situation seem so familiar? Luke following R2D2, finding Obi Wan… Kylo knows this story, his uncle had told him, but that seems so long ago now. He wracks his brain. Obi Wan wasn’t supposed to die here, he was supposed to tell Luke about the Jedi, take Luke to the cantina where they meet... Luke couldn’t go home to his aunt and uncle because…

“No!” Kylo shouts, struggling to stand, bracing himself on the rough wall behind him. “We have to… You were looking for Obi – Ben Kenobi, right?”

“Well, Artoo was, I guess.” Luke laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Does he live nearby?”

“Yeah, just over that hill back there.”

“Can you take us there?” R2D2 beeps excitedly at that and Luke shoots him a warning look.

 _What are you doing?_ Rey asks through the bond, staring at him like he is crazy, and maybe he is.

 _What needs to happen!_ He shoots back. They have messed up the timeline. If Luke doesn’t get to the Death Star, Leia will be executed, Kylo will never be born.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Luke says, shaking his head. “Owen’s already gonna be pretty upset with me, I haven’t even started my chores yet and I still need to get down to Tosche Station…”

“Ben _is_ Obi Wan Kenobi… or was.”

“Was, what do you mean was?”

“He’s… He’s dead, Luke.” Rey says, placing a hand on Luke’s arm. R2D2 beeps sadly from his hiding spot.

“Oh, no!” Luke says, carding a hand through his blond hair. “That’s awful!”

“Oh, dear. What a shame, we really should be heading back now.” C-3PO says, turning to leave the shallow cave the group has huddled in.

“But he – he had something he needed to give you.” Kylo says, his thoughts and emotions in a wild scramble.

“He did?” Luke asks, quirking an eyebrow. “What was it?”

“You’ll just have to -” Kylo stops himself, reigning in his frustration. They won’t get anywhere if Luke won’t go with them. “Can you take us to his house?”

It’s a tight squeeze, all three of them and the two droids jammed in the small landspeeder, but they make it work. Luke still seems wary of the two strangers and Rey is more than a little confused, but Kylo doesn’t notice at all.

Kylo jumps from the slowing speeder as soon as he sees Kenobi’s hovel. He vaguely hears Luke and Rey yelling at him to ‘hold on’ or ‘slow down’, but he pays them no mind. He throws the door open and immediately begins tearing through the old man’s belongings because it _has_ to be here.

_“No, I lost my first lightsaber… Same way I lost this hand.” Ben Solo’s uncle and Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker laughs and wiggles his mechanical fingers. “My master, Obi Wan, gave it to me just before I met your father. It was… It had been my father’s.” There had been a sad glint in the Jedi Master’s eyes that Ben had not been able to place then._

“What are you doing?” Rey asks as she bursts into the small home after Kylo. “ _Ben_ , _stop!”_ She hisses.

“No, I have to find…” He opens a small wooden box tucked under a windowsill, and there it is! Thin, silver and black, the hilt buzzes in Kylo’s hand. “Here it is!”

“Oh!” Rey says, stepping to stand by Kylo’s side, her eyes firmly planted on the saber hilt in his hands. “It’s Luke’s…”

“What?” Luke asks causing Rey and Kylo to swing around. He looks curiously between the two. “It’s my what?”

“This,” Kylo says holding the saber out to Luke, though every atom in his being screams against it. “This is what Kenobi wanted you to have.”

“What is it?” Luke asks, tentatively taking the hilt from Kylo’s hand. He seems to weigh it in his palms, take in the feel of it, then raises it to his face and looks straight down the emitter.

“Oh!” Rey cries, rushing to Luke’s side and pulling the saber away from his face. “Don’t do that!”

“Oh, Sorry!” Luke says bashfully.

“It’s a lightsaber.” Kylo explains.

Luke begins to inspect the weapon further. He flicks it on and the blade extends, casting the dim hut in soft blue lighting. He takes a few experimental swings of the saber, reveling in the feel of it, the way the hilt hums in his hand, the pleasing sound of the blade as it moves – Kylo knows the feeling all too well. The boy flicks the saber off and turns his attention back to Kylo, one brow raised in question.

“Why did Old Ben want me to have this?”

“It was your father’s.”

“ _My father’s_?” Luke practically shouts. Kylo can feel confusion and excitement rolling off of his uncle through the Force. “Why did Ben have this? How do you know…” Luke’s eyes are wide and searching, but he’s not looking at anything in particular. “My father’s?” He whispers.

“From when he was a Jedi…”

“My father was a _Jedi_?” Luke interrupts, his eyes have flown open even wider, if that was possible.

“You… what?” Kylo stops short.

 _He doesn’t know?_ Kylo hears Rey ask in his mind. He looks over to her and shrugs slightly.

“What do you know about your father, Luke?” Rey asks gently.

“My aunt and uncle don’t talk about him much. They told me he was… he was a pilot – a navigator on a spice freighter.” Luke sputters, falling onto a nearby seat, his shoulders slumping.

 _Lying about family secrets must be a genetic trait._ Kylo chuckles ruefully through the bond. Rey just rolls her eyes at him, but then they widen.

_Does he not know about… about…_

_About what, Rey?_

_… About_ Vader. The name of Kylo’s grandfather is practically whispered through the bond.

 _Obviously not._ Kylo sends back, and it is his turn to roll his eyes.

 _When does he… Are_ we _supposed to tell him?_

_I – I don’t know._

Kylo doesn’t know what to do. Obviously, his uncle never told him when it was that he found out Vader was his father, his family hadn’t even deemed it pertinent to tell Kylo Vader was his grandfather at all. He steals a glance at Luke who is clearly distressed, not that Kylo cares, but he doesn’t know what is supposed to come next, and then it hits him.

“Artoo, play the full message.” Kylo commands. The droid beeps defiantly, refusing Kylo’s order. “Well, he’s dead!” Kylo snaps. “I – we know Leia, play the message, _now_!”

R2D2 rolls back and forth, beeping nervously, as though the droid was unsure if he should be trusting the dark stranger or not.

“Artoo,” Rey says as she kneels beside the droid. “He’s telling the truth, he’s just being _rude_ about it.” She glares back at Kylo who rolls his eyes. “Please play the message.”

With a high-pitched beep that sounds strangely like a sigh, R2D2 consents.

The flickering blue image of his mother flashes to life in front of him looking younger than he ever remembers her being. She is wearing a long white dress, the hood pulled up over her head, partially hiding the two large buns framing her face. Luke watches his sister speak, absolutely enraptured and Rey looks close to tears. Kylo has to look away from the scene, mostly to hide the way his lower jaw is trembling.

“Leia,” Rey breathes.

 _“General Kenobi,”_ The princess begins. Kylo is helpless to do anything but listen. He hasn’t heard his mother’s voice in years and he hadn’t expected it to affect him so. He bites the inside of his cheek to distract himself. “ _Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.”_

“She’s in trouble!” Luke exclaims.

“We should go help her.” Kylo says, tonelessly, still with his back to the group.

“We – _us_?” Luke asks, standing and moving to face Kylo. Luke is inches away from his nephew, looking up at the taller man, his face awash with disbelief. Kylo realizes with a nauseous feeling that he has not been this close to his uncle in years, not since that night in the temple and the man’s blue eyes are still the same. “Wha – we can’t… I can’t…”

“Obi Wan is dead.” Kylo says with a tense jaw. “Who else does she have?”

Luke blinks, his eyes searching the small dwelling that once belonged to the dead Jedi Master. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He looks lost, scared, confused and so young Kylo can hardly bear to look at him.

“I’m just a farmer,” Luke says with a small, breathy laugh. “What can I do?”

“More than you know.” Rey says with a smile, striding up to Luke and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, I’ve got to tell my aunt and uncle at least.”

Kylo goes stiff, knowing what Luke will find back at the Lars homestead – nothing but destruction, but it has to happen because that is how it happened last time. Rey, perhaps sensing Kylo’s tension looks up at him.

 _What?_ She asks through the bond.

_You’ll see._

* * *

The bridge of the _Devastator_ buzzes and hums like a well-oiled machine. Officers stride across the shiny black floors at a quick pace, their uniforms pressed and neat. Systems beep and blink in the way they should – but Vader is ill at ease.

He had sensed a great disturbance in the Force not long after his flagship had hit hyperspace outside of Tatooine and then… Kenobi, he was gone. Anger, rage, indignation. He had been _Vader’s_ to face, it had been his vengeance to take – but that does not matter now, Vader senses. There is something larger at play. Something far more important than Kenobi or even the battle station plans which are still at large.

“Lord Vader,” A thin faced officer with pale hair stands in front of Vader, her back straight as a pin, her hands clasped tightly behind her. She is the picture of calm, but Vader can sense her fear. They are always afraid, which he is glad for. “The prisoner has been confined to a cell on the brig. We are on route to the DS-1 battle station. Do you have any orders?”

The battle station… no, the Force screams against the idea of returning there, but why?

“No,” Vader intones. “Redirect, return to Tatooine.”

The officer is clearly stunned, her light eyes blinking rapidly, her mouth falling open just a fraction. For a moment it seems as though she might question Vader’s orders, but luckily for her, she thinks better of it.

“Right away, sir.” She inclines her head respectfully and turns on her heels to relay his command.

Vader walks slowly down the center of the bridge, officers part like water around him, granting him a wide berth, which he prefers. He stops in front of the large command deck viewport, staring out into hyperspace. He remembers that the lines surrounding them are white and blue, blinding and brilliant, though he only sees red now.

He can feel it, as sure as he is standing, that he is making the right choice. For the first time in his life, that horrific scar of a planet actually has something of value for him. He is going to find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing from everyone - it fuels me! Haha! Thanks so much for reading, I'll try to get an update out every week if not more frequently (fingers crossed!) 😊
> 
> Edit: After realizing how CRIMINAL it is that I did not have my precious Kenobi say his meme line, I have changed the title for this chapter in his memory. Long live General Kenobi.
> 
> Edit 2: 💖 Now with moodboard! 💖


	2. Two Solos Walk Into a Cantina...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Never mind,” Rey says with an exasperated sigh. “How are we going to get there? We don’t have a ship.”
> 
> Kylo can feel his face contort into a pained grimace, his fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his palms without the barrier of black leather that normally protects them. He sighs deeply and the sound is more ragged than he had been expecting. He does not want to see that man, or any of them really, but it doesn’t hurt, it simply doesn’t.
> 
> “The same way they got there last time.” He says vaguely, his voice tighter than it should be.
> 
> “You don’t mean…” Rey says, her eyes flying wide with more emotions than Kylo can handle right now. He doesn’t meet her eyes when he speaks again.
> 
> \---
> 
> Luke finds out some bad news, Rey tries to make sense of what is going on, and Kylo does what he does best - makes a mess of everthing!

Luke and the droids head out to the speeder but Rey places a firm hand on Kylo’s chest, forcing him to hang back within Obi Wan’s small dwelling. His heart begins to race at the contact and he looks down at her, knowing that she can feel it too.

“What?”

“Why are you helping him?” Rey asks, her voice a whisper even though there is no one around to hear them.

“What do you mean?” Kylo asks, knowing perfectly well why she is confused but wanting her to say it anyway.

“When we first… met.” She says, struggling to find the correct word and failing badly. “You were trying to find the map to Luke – so you could _kill_ him, or don’t you remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Kylo says, his voice a low rumble. Rey shivers and he nearly smiles, but her eyes remain firm and calm on him and his mouth remains downturned. “But this… Do you understand how… This is the _beginning_ , Rey.”

“What do you mean, ‘the beginning’?” Rey asks, scrunching up her face.

“It’s the beginning of everything – of all of it!” Kylo says, throwing his arms up in the air. “Luke is meant to go save my… his… _Leia_ on the Death Star and Obi Wan is supposed to be there to help him, but he’s dead now. If Luke and… If they don’t save her, she’ll be executed and if she’s executed -”

“You won’t be born.” Rey says with an unimpressed frown. “Ah, I see. At least you have noble intentions.”

“You’re upset that I want to be _born_?” Kylo asks, indignantly. What, exactly, does she want from him? It was a question he knows from experience he would never have the answer to.

“Never mind,” Rey says with an exasperated sigh. “How are we going to get there? We don’t have a ship.”

Kylo can feel his face contort into a pained grimace, his fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his palms without the barrier of black leather that normally protects them. He sighs deeply and the sound is more ragged than he had been expecting. He does not want to see _that man_ , or any of them really, but it doesn’t _hurt_ , it simply doesn’t.

“The same way they got there last time.” He says vaguely, his voice tighter than it should be.

“You don’t mean…” Rey says, her eyes flying wide with more emotions than Kylo can handle right now. He doesn’t meet her eyes when he speaks again.

“My… Their meeting is fairly integral to my being born.”

He turns and busies himself with scouring the Kenobi residence. He can’t look at Rey, not now. He can’t see what he knows she must be thinking. _Maybe it would be better for them if you weren’t_. Well… maybe that’s right, but he’s not about to prevent his own birth just to stop his parents’ mistakes.

“What are you doing?” Rey asks from somewhere behind Kylo.

“We need credits, actual Imperial credits.” He says, shifting through a pile of brown robes. “Ha – He won’t go anywhere without payment upfront.”

Kenobi must have at least some money lying around. Yes, the man had been a Jedi, and they did live rather spartan lives, but he had to eat, right? He had to buy water from somewhere, and he would have needed credits to do so.

“Hey, are you two coming or not?” Kylo hears Luke call from the speeder outside, his voice muffled by the adobe walls.

“Just meet us out by the speeder.” Rey says softly, sounding strangely resigned.

After just a little while longer of searching, luckily Kenobi’s house is not a large one, he finds a small sack full of credits. Without counting, Kylo suspects there may be fifteen hundred to two thousand credits there, which will not be enough, surely, but the promise of a princess’s wealth had been enough to persuade Han Solo last time – it would have to be enough this time as well.

Returning to the speeder, Kylo collects his own lightsaber as well as Kenobi’s from Rey. She seems hesitant to give them back at first, her eyes screaming her misgivings about rearming her enemy loud and clear.

 _Are we really enemies right now?_ Kylo sends through the bond, shooting her a withering stare.

Kylo clips the returned sabers to the waistband of his trousers and makes a note to procure a new belt as soon as possible.

Being crammed into the small speeder again is uncomfortable, but nothing is as uncomfortable to Kylo as Luke’s incessant questions.

“I don’t think I ever caught your names.”

“Rey,” Rey responds with a cheery smile. Kylo says nothing. “And this is Ben.” She says gesturing to Kylo. He glowers at her but says nothing. Vaguely, he wonders what has changed besides the scenery, why he is ‘Ben’ again and no longer ‘Kylo’.

“Ben?” Luke asks, looking back quickly before returning his attention to the desert speeding by in front of them. “Really? That’s a coincidence!”

“Yeah, funny how that works out.” Kylo grumbles, sinking into his seat on the speeder, C-3PO’s bent arm digging into his side.

“I’ve never seen either of you around before.” Luke calls out over the roar of the speeder’s engine. “Where are the two of you from?”

“Jakku.” Rey offers, scrunching her nose slightly, Kylo doesn’t think she even means to do it.

“Never heard of it.”

“No, it’s nowhere, really.”

“Sounds like Tatooine!” Luke says with a laugh.

“It’s not far off,” Rey agrees with a laugh of her own.

“So what brings the two of you out here?”

“Oh, um…” Rey stammers. Before either she or Kylo are able to think up a convincing lie, all three of them are distracted by a large trapezoidal transport stopped in the middle of the desert. Kylo feels the speeder slow down as they approach the transport. The air reeks of death and there are small brown lumps littering the sand around the vehicle.

“Don’t slow down,” Kylo says, leaning over the front seat of the speeder. “Keep going.”

“No,” Luke says shaking his head, turning the speeder to get closer to the carnage. “I think those Jawas are in trouble.”

“They’re _dead_.” Kylo growls in irritation. He reaches around his uncle to take control of the speeder’s steering and swings it away from the transport. “Keep going.” He commands lowly.

“Okay!” His uncle whines, indignantly. “Jeeze.” He huffs. “It couldn’t hurt to _help_.” Luke mutters under his breath, his shoulders slumping slightly.

Before long, they see a large plume of black smoke rising over the horizon.

“That doesn’t look good.” Luke comments offhandedly.

Kylo braces himself for what he knows to be coming. Luke did not mention his aunt and uncle often, there had been few occasions too. Though, sometimes he would reminisce, if it could be called that, about his days spent on Tatooine, and he had told Kylo this story, about the massacre that awaited on the Lars homestead. The end of one life and the start of another. Rey glances back at him, her eyes full of suspicion.

 _You know what that is_. She says through the bond. It is not a question.

_Yes, I do._

_What is it?_

Kylo doesn’t answer.

They draw closer and it becomes clear that the smoke is coming from a small, rounded homestead in the distance. Kylo can feel Luke’s fear building, but his uncle doesn’t say anything, just increases their speed.

“No, no, no.” Luke says as it becomes clear that the homestead is indeed his own. Kylo can hear the younger man’s voice wavering with emotion, can practically see the tears in his uncle’s blue eyes.

The speeder skids to a halt outside of the dome-shaped entrance. A handful of imperial stormtroopers are gathered in front of the homestead, blasters at the ready. Kylo doesn’t remember Luke mentioning an imperial presence at the farm, but perhaps that had seemed a lesser detail in his retelling of his former caretakers’ deaths. By the time one of them says something about the droids, Kylo has already jumped out of the speeder and ignited his lightsaber.

Kylo blocks the incoming blaster fire with his red blade. He lifts one of the troopers up into the air and slams them back down to the ground with the Force where they crumple, lifeless. Rey is by his side in an instant and he can feel the bond hum with the same contentment he felt as they fought Snoke’s guards on the _Supremacy_. She charges the troopers and begins hacking at them and Kylo is quick to follow her lead. All of the stormtroopers are dead within a matter of minutes.

Kylo looks back to the speeder, but Luke is not there. He has moved to the entrance of the homestead, kneeling in the sand in front a pair of blackened, burned corpses, nothing more than bones now. Kylo can see Luke’s back shaking with sobs but is too far away to hear them. Rey is at his side in a moment, running a hand up and down his back.

 _You knew about this!_ She accuses through the bond.

 _I did._ He admits.

_Why didn’t you say anything?_

_What would you have had me say? Did you want me to tell Luke I knew of his aunt and uncle’s fates? How would I explain that, Rey?_

_You could have told_ me _!_ She shoots back, whipping her head around to quickly glare at Kylo.

 _I – you’re right._ Rey seems either surprised or confused by Kylo’s admission but says nothing.

The two time travelers allow Luke to mourn his aunt and uncle for a short while before Rey suggest burying them. Luke agrees and grabs a few shovels which seemed to have survived the blaze. Kylo simply watches for a while until Rey reminds him that the job will go much more quickly with his assistance. Owen and Beru Lars are buried not far from the Lars homestead next to the two other graves already on the property.

“I’m so sorry, Luke.” Rey says, wrapping her arms around the boy. He’s no longer crying, but his face is still stained by tear-tracks, clean lines down dust and sand covered skin. Luke does not return her embrace but doesn’t push her off either, just stares off at the two freshly filled graves and sighs.

“We should get going.” He says somberly.

“Would you like me to drive?” Rey asks, Luke can only nod.

Luke gives Rey directions towards Mos Eisley, which luckily is not far from the Lars’ homestead.

“So Luke,” Rey begins gently. She’s been trying to keep Kylo’s uncle talking as much as possible, comforting him, taking his mind off of his loss. “What do you do for fun around here?”

“Oh,” Luke sits up slightly in the front passenger’s seat of the speeder. “Well, I’ve usually got a lot of chores on the -” He stops, shaking his head. “Anyway, I like to fly. Sometimes I’ll go out with Biggs and the others and bulls-eye womp rats in my T-16 or race Beggars Canyon, I can even fly dead man’s turn – if you’re not from around here, you wouldn’t know but that’s kind of a big deal.”

Kylo resists scoffing aloud, but he does roll his eyes.

“It sounds dangerous.” Rey says with a light laugh.

“It is; Owen sure was mad when…” Luke trails off again and Rey places a hand on his shoulder. Luke shrugs. “I’ve wanted to be a pilot for as long as I can remember. I was even thinking of putting in my application for the Academy this year, but…”

“The _Imperial Academy_?” Rey sputters, momentarily losing control of the speeder which swerves wildly in the sands, but she quickly rights the vehicle.

“Hey, watch it!” Luke cries as Rey gets the vehicle back under control. “Yeah, _that_ academy. Look, I dislike the Empire as much as the next guy, but where else am I supposed to become a pilot?”

Kylo chuckles lowly to himself, confident that the two in the front of the speeder can’t hear. He imagines his uncle joining the Imperial Academy – that would have gone well.

“Have you ever heard of the Rebellion?” Rey asks a little too pointedly.

“Of course, I have.” Luke scoffs from beside her. “Who hasn’t, but you can’t become a licensed pilot through the Rebellion – they won’t teach you how to fly there.”

Rey turns her head and opens her mouth as though she is about to make some surely heartfelt argument for the Rebel Alliance, but Luke interrupts her, pointing ahead towards the growing, yet hazy dark blob on the horizon.

“There it is, Mos Eisley.” Luke says. “I’ve never been, heard it’s pretty bad news though. Why did we need to go here again?” Luke asks, craning his neck around to look at Kylo.

“We need a pilot.” Kylo explains plainly.

“Yeah, but they’ve got pilots in other places too, like Anchorhead, why Mos Eisley specifically?”

Kylo does not speak. Instead, he keeps his eyes straight ahead on the growing blob of a spaceport and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Luke stares at his nephew for a few seconds, his face growing more and more frustrated as Kylo refuses to give him an answer.

“Oh, never mind you!” Luke whines, whipping back around and slumping into his seat.

Rey slows the speeder as they reach the spaceport. The place is crowded and, frankly, awful. Everything is covered in dirt and dust and rust and sand. Everyone they pass looks a certain level of shady or otherwise untrustworthy and Kylo cannot wait to put this planet behind him.

Domed adobe buildings line the streets, all of them tan, blending into the sands surrounding the spaceport. Colored tapestries and clothes hung out to dry on lines are the only pops of vibrancy or color as most of the inhabitants seem to have been painted by the sands as well.

“We should sell your speeder.” Kylo says from the back seat. Luke spins around and gapes at him in disbelief.

“Sell my – What are you talking about, _sell_ my speeder?” Luke nearly shouts, drawing the attention of the pickpockets and thieves nearby.

“We’ll need credits for passage on a ship.” Kylo explains tonelessly. “I have some, but it won’t be enough.”

“Well I – I don’t have another landspeeder, you know?”

Kylo grumbles and closes his eyes in irritation. He cannot very well explain to Luke exactly _why_ he would never need this speeder ever again, and they need more credits.

“We’re delivering this message for a princess, right?” Kylo began slowly, trying to sound as calm and level-headed as possible. “There’s sure to be some kind of reward involved, you can buy another speeder – a _new_ one.”

Kylo sees Luke chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly tempted by the allure of a new, shinny landspeeder. After a moment his teenage uncle nods once, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

Kylo allows both Luke and Rey to haggle for a price on the speeder at a local dealer. Luke is eager to take the first deal they are offered as he knows the woman who runs the trade post. Apparently, she frequently bought her water from the Lars family. Luke mentions nothing about their deaths to the woman, surely it is still too fresh, but he does flinch when she mentions them.

Luckily, Rey is far more seasoned in the art of bartering. She eventually settles on a price of thirty-five hundred credits bringing them to a grand total of fifty-five hundred – not bad, but, because Kylo knows exactly _who_ they will be dealing with, he knows it won’t be quite enough. The dealer had also been interested in buying C-3PO for an additional six hundred credits, a terrible deal for the quality of the droid, but after growing up with the thing Kylo almost wishes they’d taken the deal.

There is a small imperial presence in Mos Eisley. Every now and again they will see a pair of troopers walking the street, which they carefully avoid by ducking into alleys or behind speeders. They are stopped once, the troopers asking about the droids. Kylo sends the pair away with a simple mind trick.

“How’d you do that?” Luke asked from Kylo’s side, struggling to keep up with the taller man’s loping gait.

“The Force allows you to influence weaker minds, the weaker the easier.” Kylo explains with a sigh. “And there are no weaker minds than stormtroopers’.”

“Hey!” Rey cries indignantly from beside Luke, the droids following close behind them now. Kylo’s lips twitch upwards slightly in the ghost of a smirk.

“What?” Luke asks, turning his head towards Rey.

“I have a friend who _was_ a stormtrooper – they’re not all like that.”

Kylo rolls his eyes. Normally, he wouldn’t bother explaining the Force to his uncle or joining in this conversation, but he honestly needs a distraction. He can see _the_ cantina now; the Force is telling him it’s the one. He can feel his confidence wane with every step closer. That man will be in that cantina and Kylo isn’t sure he can face him again, he’s not sure he’s strong enough.

The world around him blurs. He can’t hear Luke and Rey discussing the stormtrooper program. He can’t see the beings passing him on the street. His world has devolved into putting one foot in front of the other. His vision has tunneled and he can only see the cantina and when he blinks he sees the nightmare bridge.

“Hey, are you going to be alright?” Rey asks from right beside Kylo, her voice low. It is only then that he realizes they are standing outside of the entrance to the cantina. He wonders how long he has been frozen in that spot.

Kylo looks down at Rey. His breathing is shallow but slow. She’s looking up at him, hazel eyes wide and full of concern, full of pity, full of… sympathy? No, that can’t be right.

_You had a father that loved you! He gave a damn about you!_

_Why did you kill him? I don’t understand._

“Yes!” Kylo snaps at her, looking away before he can see the hurt in her eyes, before she can see that he doesn’t understand why either anymore.

He storms into the cantina. It’s dark and crowded and loud. The air smells like smoke and sweat and alcohol. It’s exactly like every cantina Han Solo ever brought him to as a child, far too young to be hanging around such establishments. Kylo has suppressed more of these misguided attempts at father-son bonding than he cares to admit.

Kylo doesn’t even have to glance around the cantina to know where Han Solo is, he can sense him. Han’s presence is familiar, coarse and rough, it rubs Kylo in all the wrong ways. It screams “ _Abandoner! Smuggler!”_ with the same intensity as it shouts “ _Murderer! Monster!”_ In the end, the words drown each other out until all that is left is a thunderous cacophony of angry, meaningless sound.

“We don’t serve their kind here.” The bartender grunts, pointing behind Kylo. He turns to see Rey and Luke, the former refusing to meet his eye, followed closely by C-3PO and R2D2.

“What?” Luke asks with genuine confusion.

“Your droids, they can’t come in here.”

Rey seems affronted but Luke just asks the two droids to wait for them outside of the cantina, C-3PO seems more than willing to comply. R2D2 beeps something that’s actually rather rude, but most people don’t understand binary, so it goes unnoticed.

Kylo inclines his head in the direction he knows Solo to be. Keeping his pace slow, he allows Rey and Luke to trot up beside him. Kylo leans down so that the two can hear him over the band and the local ruffians’ muffled chatter.

“Let me do the talking.” Kylo looks pointedly at Luke. “I want to make sure this goes well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke asks, clearly insulted. Kylo offers no answer.

Kylo is walking through a particularly thick cloud of smoke, the origin of which is unknown, when he sees him. Young, tan, brown hair roguishly tousled, leaning back in a booth in the corner of the cantina, mumbling something to the Wookiee on his left. Unconsciously, Kylo stops in his tracks and physically flinches. He closes his eyes, but that’s worse because now Han Solo is an old man with grey hair and wrinkled skin and a lightsaber thrust through his chest. His sudden stop causes Luke and Rey to run into his backside.

“What’s the holdup?” Luke complains. Kylo fights the urge to snap again and keeps walking.

He looms over the table like a dark shadow, the blood of the man sitting below him hardly dry on his hands. He clears his throat to gain the pilot’s attention. Han looks up at him lazily, not a care in the galaxy. Chewbacca grunts a short greeting. Kylo says nothing, his throat is too tight.

 _Let_ you _do the talking?_ Rey taunts. Her laughter rings through his mind. _It’s going very well so far, don’t you think?_

“Can I help you?” Han asks, idly shaking his head.

“We need a pilot.” Kylo says tightly. His voice cracks slightly with emotion that simply shouldn’t be there. He can feel the muscles under his left eye twitch and he ignores them. “I was told you were the man to speak to… Han Solo.”

Kylo’s jaw tightens as he focuses on his anger, lets it build inside of him, lets it feed on memories of lonely nights in a dark apartment, of broken promises always forgotten. Anger, Kylo can handle, anger, he understands. Being _angry_ is easy – it’s the other emotions, the ones that hide in the dark places in Kylo’s soul, the ones that come out at the memory of Han Solo, the father, that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

Han’s hazel eyes light up with the mention of his name, with the knowledge that Kylo has heard of him. Kylo had known this would be the way to get Han’s attention, the man couldn’t resist having his ego stroked.

“Yeah?” Han says, leaning forward. “And you’ve you been talkin’ to?”

“Does it really matter?” Kylo asks lowly. Han is less than cowed and Kylo moves on. “Can we get passage on your ship or not?”

“Who’s _we_?” Han asks, quirking one brow.

“The three of us,” Kylo says stepping aside to reveal Rey and Luke. He decidedly does not watch Rey’s reaction to seeing Han for the first time since… “And two droids.”

“Hmm,” Han hums, looking over the motley crew, his eyes lingering too long on Rey for Kylo’s liking. “What happened, you kids get into some trouble, gotta get off planet?” Han smirks.

“I don’t see how it matters _why_ we require your services.”

“Well, it matters to _me_.” Han says, pointing a thumb at his own chest. “Listen, all I’m saying is that if there’s someone you want to avoid, you’re gonna want me to know.” He leans back again, crossing his arms behind his head.

“The Empire.” Kylo says plainly.

“Ah, there we have it.” Han says, rolling his head around languidly. “The rub – now, that’ll cost ya, y’know?”

“I am well aware of how these transactions work. How much?”

“Your friend here’s a real piece of work.” Han says to Rey and Luke as he snaps a finger and points it towards Kylo. “That depends on where you’re going, doesn’t it?” Han asks, folding his fingers together and resting his chin upon them, his attention returning to Kylo.

“Alderaan.”

“Alright,” Han says, looking up at the smoky ceiling of the cantina and nodding. “Three passengers,”

“Plus two droids!” Luke adds.

“-Plus two droids to Alderaan – No imperial _entanglements_.” Han hums as if he doesn’t already have a price worked out. “Ten thousand – up front.”

“Ten thousand!” Luke balks. “That’s insane, we don’t have that kind of -”

“I’ve got five thousand five hundred here,” Ben throws the sack of credits on the table. He watches Han twitch, holding himself back from reaching out for it instantly. Instead the pilot eyes it for a moment before nonchalantly dragging the bag over to himself to start counting the credits. “Ten thousand more when we get to Alderaan.”

Kylo feels the ghost of a smirk on his face growing at the knowledge that this is a worse deal than Han was offered last time and knowing that the smuggler would take it anyway. Actually, with how desperate Han is for credits right now with Jabba breathing down his neck, they possibly could have gotten away with just the five thousand – but it doesn’t matter, Han will get his reward for saving the princess either way.

“Fifteen thousand,” Han rubs his chin considering, but Kylo knows the man has already made up his mind. He can see it in those hauntingly familiar hazel eyes.

“Fifteen thousand five hundred.” Luke reminds the pilot.

“Yeah, thanks, kid.” Han says, rolling his eyes at the boy.

“So, will you take us or not?” Rey asks, folding her arms across her chest impatiently. Apparently, the warm joy she’d felt at the sight of a living Han Solo had worn off giving way to exasperation.

“Oh, I’ll take you, sweetheart.” Han says, to Rey, winking and schooling his mouth into a roguish smirk. Rey rolls her eyes, but Kylo’s hands have balled into tight fists again and he is actually trembling with rage. “I’ve got some business to finish up here, won’t be long. The ship’s at docking bay ninety-four – maybe get the big guy a drink before you head out, he looks like he could use it.” He adds, inclining his head to Kylo.

“Docking bay ninety-four, got it.” Luke confirms as Kylo turns quickly while Luke and Rey give their thanks to Han. _That’s not why he does it_. He wants to say.

Kylo can hardly hear anything in the cantina over the blood pounding in his ears. He bumps into a male Rodian who curses at him colorfully in Huttese.

“Watch where you’re going!” Kylo growls. The Rodian, seemingly unfazed by the warning, keeps up his barrage of Hutt slurs and foul language as Kylo crosses the entryway of the cantina and finds himself once again under the baking twin suns of Tatooine.

“Alright, droids, you’re coming with us.” Kylo whips his head around to see a pair of stormtroopers attempting to make off with R2D2 and C-3PO.

The small, logical part of Kylo knows that he could mind trick these troopers into leaving them alone – it would be far subtler and over all the smarter thing to do, but his rising anger and self-loathing screams for blood and his logic has never been able to override his temper when it boils like this. He ignites his saber and quickly cuts down the two offending troopers without issue. The world around him seems to still, passersby have stopped what they are doing to gape at the man with the unstable red lightsaber.

“ _Ben_ ,” Kylo hears Rey’s stern voice from behind him and though his lust for destruction is not even nearly half sated he flicks off his lightsaber and returns it to the waistband of his pants.

Gritting his teeth, Kylo turns around to face her. He expects to see disappointment, anger, perhaps even just irritation, but the mixture of emotion he sees on Rey’s face now is one that he can’t even begin to figure out and he feels his rage thoroughly cooled by the confusion it brings him.

“Now, was that entirely necessary?” She asks him, her confusing flurry of emotions giving way to pure exasperation.

“Yes,” Kylo says shortly. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in doing my research for this chapter (aka watching the beginning of A New Hope several times) I realized that Luke's speeder does not actually have a backseat! How embarrassing! 😂 However, there is no way to fit Rey, Luke, the mountain that is Kylo, and two droids in a two seat speeder, and they're not walking to Mos Eisley, so this is now an AU where Luke has a speeder with a back seat. Please forgive me! Haha!
> 
> I got this done much sooner than anticipated, thanks in large part to the wonderful response to the first chapter! Thanks so much for reading!!💕😊


	3. When I Left You I Was But the Learner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ouch!” Luke wails as he’s hit in the leg by another of the droid’s shots. “This is – gah!” He’s hit again, in the arm this time. “This is impossible!”
> 
> “It’s not impossible,” Rey scoffs, turning her attention away from the game of dejarik she’s started with Chewbacca. “Reach out with the Force, let it flow through you, guide your blade.”
> 
> “The Force? How do I – Jeez!” The droid hits him in the hand again and Luke flicks off his lightsaber. He flails the hilt at the floating ball. “Turn that thing off!”
> 
> \---
> 
> The crew escapes the sands of Tatooine, Kylo gets some quiet time, Rey becomes the master, Luke gets a lesson in the Force, and Vader learns some very interesting information!

Kylo leads Rey, his teenage uncle, and the two droids through the streets of Mos Eisley. He elects to avoid main roads, sticking to thinner, darker, somehow grungier alleys and back streets. There is a buzzing sensation, dull but present, in the back of his skull. He turns down a nearly abandoned street.

“Uh, Ben, I think we’re going the wrong way.” Luke pipes up from behind Kylo.

“Ben?” Rey says slowly. Kylo does not answer her either, just turns a corner in to another alley, this one a dead-end. There are pieces of fabric colored red and yellow and orange hanging from window to window over the thin back street. The coverings provide a pleasant shade, shadows colored like a desert sunset.

_What’s going on?_

_We’re being followed._

Kylo chances a glance behind him. Rey gives him a slight, nearly imperceptible nod and he can see her fingers twitch near her lightsaber hilt, ready for a fight should things come to that. He sees a flash of a dark cloak and knows intuitively it is their pursuer.

Kylo reaches out and grips the figure with the Force. He can feel the being struggling to break his hold over it, but the effort is in vain. Kylo rounds on the creature, it is short, covered head-to-toe in a dark, hooded cloak, its face concealed by black goggles and a mask with a long snout.

“Who are you working for?” Kylo growls, his voice low and deadly.

The creature sputters meaningless sound. With one hand extended towards its face, Kylo digs into its mind, he can vaguely hear it scream as he does so. He sees imperial stormtroopers, they’re asking about the droids. He sees the droids now, waiting outside of a cantina, it follows them, commlink primed in hand to reveal where they are headed. Kylo pulls out and concentrates the Force around the creature’s neck. It grasps at the invisible hands choking it futilely.

“Oh, don’t kill them.” Rey says, her tone more admonishing than pleading. Kylo’s grip relaxes slightly, but he does not release the spy.

“It was going to reveal us to the Empire.” Kylo says, his hand twitching with the effort of not killing the alien.

“Ugh, just – Ben, please.” She places a hand on his arm. Her touch, as always, fills him with a calm stillness and he releases the creature. It wheezes for a moment before falling to the ground in a Force-induced sleep.

“Is he dead?” Luke asks, scandalized.

“No,” Kylo says plainly, not even bothering to address his uncle directly.

When they reach hangar bay ninety-four they pass a sizable group of beings, one of which is a large slug-like alien Kylo knows to be a Hutt.

 _Jabba_. He thinks with a sneer.

 _What?_ Rey asks over the bond. Kylo hadn’t even realized he’d been projecting the thought.

_Nothing, just an old family enemy._

“Thank you again, Jabba!” Han Solo’s voice calls out, ringing through the duracrete walls of the enclosed hangar space. “You’re a _wonderful_ human being!”

The group crosses the threshold of the hallway, revealing the barely held-together space craft to the small crew. Han is standing on the entry ramp of the _Millennium Falcon_ , smiling with pride for the hunk of rubbish he calls a ship.

“What a piece of _junk_!” Luke wails from behind Kylo who nearly laughs.

“She may not -” Han begins, his face contorting into the grimace he always wears when defending his precious ship.

“She is _not_ a piece of junk,” Rey says rounding on Luke to defend the garbage ship. “That’s the _Millennium Falcon_!”

“No, Luke’s right.” Kylo says flatly, the hint of a smirk creeping onto his face.

“You’ve heard of her?” Han asks, ignoring Kylo’s remark. He descends the ramp and swaggers towards Rey.

“Well, who hasn’t?” Rey laughs awkwardly. “She’s the fastest ship in the galaxy.”

Han’s eyes light up at that and Kylo very nearly growls audibly.

“Hey, you’re alright.” Han laughs. “You know, she made the kessel run in…”

“ _Twelve_ parsecs, I know.” Rey says, her eyes flicking over to Kylo who is currently chewing a hole into the side of his cheek.

“Well, well, well…” Han says throwing his arm over Rey’s shoulders. Kylo’s entire body tenses, fighting the urge to storm over and rip the man’s arm off of Rey, or perhaps just _off_.

 _Rey_. He warns.

 _What?_ She asks with genuine sounding innocence which only causes his hackles to rise further.

“You sure know your stuff, sweetheart.” He says, leading her into the ship. “Now I see who the brains of this operation really is.” He laughs heartily as the two of them ascend the _Falcon_ ’s ramp, Luke and the droids following quickly behind, the ridiculous poncho Kylo’s uncle had insisted on grabbing out of the trunk of his landspeeder flapping behind him.

Kylo elects not to move for a little while, just a moment or two really. He breathes deeply, calling on his old Jedi training for the first time in _years_. Everyone in this time seems to be set on either infuriating or destroying him – there is no in-between. He tries to find his center, easier said than done when there is so much darkness to wade through. Once he feels that he has amassed what little calm he is capable of finding he strides onto the ship.

The smell hits him first. A bizarrely nauseating and nostalgic mixture of fuel, coolant and smoke – surely emanating from whatever piece of the ship was currently in the process of breaking. It smells like Han Solo, like childhood, like bitterness and regret and self-loathing. Kylo’s jaw tenses and he pushes through, punching the switch next to the entry ramp, closing it.

C-3PO and R2D2 are holed up in the lounge, as usual, happy to be away from the action, but Kylo finds everyone else in the cockpit. Han and Chewbacca are going over their pre-flight checks, a familiar sight that makes Kylo twitch and long to escape. Luke is hovering over the controls, asking Han a long list of rapid fire questions. Han swats Luke’s hand away any time it gets too close to anything. Rey is sitting in the seat directly behind Han.

“Didn’t know if you were gonna join us or not, big guy!” Han says, acknowledging Kylo’s presence without turning around. “It’s Ben, right? Your friends told me.”

That’s too much – that name coming from Han Solo’s mouth. It’s all Kylo can do to not crumble here and now, to not devolve into a storm of wanton destruction and misery. His entire body tenses and he can only grunt tightly in affirmation.

The _Millennium Falcon_ lifts into the cloudless, blue Tatooine sky with ease. Luke stumbles backwards into the seat behind Chewbacca as the ship begins to break through the planet’s atmosphere. Kylo remains standing in the threshold of the cockpit but braces himself with the Force. He feels the ship shuddering around him with each layer they cross, the old freighter held together seemingly by nothing but dumb luck and its pilot’s sheer force of will.

“Smooth,” Kylo grits out through clattering teeth. Han ignores his son’s comment.

* * *

Vader can sense the young officer approach him before he sees him.

“Lord Vader.” The officer says, his voice wavering only very slightly. He is afraid of Vader, more frightened than many of the other officers who live and work on the _Devastator_. Fresh and young, surely plied with horror stories of the mechanical Sith Lord in command of the Imperial Navy. Vader draws on the boy’s fear, lets it fuel him as he searches the Force for what it is trying to show him. “We have arrived.”

Vader stares out of the large transparisteel viewport at the round, tan ball of dust and sand which floats in the inky blackness of space beyond him. Two other Imperial cruisers sit in the realspace above Tatooine. His rasping mechanical breaths fill the silent seconds before his response.

“I am aware.” Vader responds. He considers gesturing towards the planet clearly visible before the both of them but decides against it.

“Of course, my Lord.” The young man stammers. “We’ve received intelligence from one of our spies on the planet. He claims to have seen the droids we’ve been searching for.”

“Why were the troopers planet-side not informed of this?” Vader asks merest hint of disapproval; it is all that is necessary to spike the boy’s fear. “Why are the droids not in our custody now?”

“Apparently the spy was attacked by one of the men with the droids.” The young officer explains, his attempts at sounding calm are plain, though they are a failure.

“Prepare my shuttle.”

“You will be going down to the planet yourself?” The young officer asks foolishly.

Vader turns his head only very slightly. The boy’s face is soft and worried. His dark, round eyes hold none of the sharp intellect and cold ambition of many of the higher-ranking officers. Vader does not believe this boy will make it far. He stares at the officer for a moment, hoping he will not have to repeat himself.

“I – Of course, right away, Lord Vader.” The young man says, remembering his place and to whom he is speaking.

“No ships are to leave this planet; I want a full lock-down of any and all spaceports.” As Vader speaks, he can see a small ship breaking through Tatooine’s atmosphere. The Force moves strangely around it, discordant, out of place. “Stop that ship, I want it’s occupants brought aboard, but destroy it if you must.”

“Of course, my Lord.” The young officer says, dipping into a shallow bow before springing to action.

“We’re scrambling the TIEs now.” Another officer says from somewhere below Vader.

Vader watches as the two smaller cruisers accompanied by a squadron of black TIE fighters begin pursuing the small craft.

* * *

“We’ve got a whole fleet on our tail!” Han exclaims as he frantically makes the lightspeed calculations. “Chewie, get those rear deflector shields up!”

Chewbacca grunts that he is working on it. The ship shudders as the green blast from an incoming TIE hits the hull. Kylo is torn between running to jump in the gunner seat and pushing Han out of the way to make the calculations himself.

“Damn!” Han says, flinging the ship in a downward arc to avoid the incoming fire. “What kind of _trouble_ did you all get in exactly?”

“C’mon, we’ve gotta get outta here!” Luke cries, rushing up towards the controls. Han elbows the boy out of the way and Luke shoots him an incredulous look.

“What do you think I’m tryin’ to do here, kid?” Han shouts, not taking his eyes off of the controls.

He pitches the _Falcon_ in a sharp angle up, trying to throw the TIEs off of them, but they are still in hot pursuit. The ship shakes as shot after shot of laserfire hits the hull.

“What can I do? How can I help?” Luke asks, trying to approach the captain’s chair again. Han does whip around now, momentarily, to thrust one finger in Luke’s face.

“Sit down and shut up, kid!”

Rey reaches out and pulls a shocked Luke back into the empty seat behind Chewbacca.

“Nearly ready…” Han says, his hand fisting the hyperdrive controls with white-knuckled strength. “And… Now!” He pulls the switch and the blackness of space is replaced by the blue and white lines of hyperspace and Kylo can breathe again.

“I was only trying to help.” Luke mumbles under his breath. He is slumped down in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his face screwed up like he is tasting something sour. Kylo has never seen his uncle look like such a petulant child.

“Listen,” Han swirls the pilot’s seat around to face Luke. “Jumping to lightspeed takes _very precise_ calculations – it’s not like dusting crops, farm boy.”

“I was a _moisture_ _farmer_ ; I didn’t dust anything!”

Ignoring Luke’s protestations about farming, Han turns to Kylo, the pilot’s face set in a hard grimace.

“What _was_ that? What are you all running from?” Han seethes.

“I told you,” Kylo says flatly. “The Empire.”

“Oh, boy,” Han laughs, but there is no humor in it. Anger flares in his hazel eyes. “You’re a real piece of work, I’ll tell you -”

“How long until we get to Alderaan?” Luke asks, cutting Han off.

“About two standard days.” Han says gruffly.

“Two days?!” Luke asks, incredulously. “I thought you said this thing was fast!”

“Two days _is_ fast, kid.” Han growls.

* * *

The moment Vader takes his first steps onto the sands of Tatooine he is flooded with memories – memories of Anakin Skywalker. They live on this planet, buried under its dunes, hidden beneath the sand in dark and miserable places. Buried like his mother, proof of his weakness, proof of the reason he had to be destroyed.

The twin suns of the wretched planet beat down on the spaceport of Mos Eisley, baking everything they touch, burning its inhabitants, frying their minds. Vader does not feel the sun. Trapped within his temperature-controlled suit he feels nothing at all.

The Kubaz is brought before Vader by an escort of four stormtroopers. Vader cannot see his face beneath the black, trunked mask, cannot see the alien’s eyes beneath the glassy goggles – in this way the creature and Vader are the same, though it is the only way. The Kubaz’s fear is palpable, Vader feels no fear at all.

“Tell me about the droids.” Vader begins sounding impassive. The alien begins to speak in its native language, a series of whirring syllables which Vader’s audio sensors translate immediately.

“I saw them, the protocol droid and the astromech,” The alien explains. “Just as the message described. They were with two men and a girl…”

“Why was the Empire not informed sooner?” Vader interrupts.

“I was following them but the dark man, he must have seen me…” The Kubaz whirs. “He held me without touching me, choked me without his hands, reached inside my mind – then I was asleep. I relayed what I knew as soon as I woke, please, Lord Vader, I am at your mercy.” The alien tries to fall to his knees, an attempt to grovel, but the troopers hold him up.

This ‘dark man’ intrigues Vader. Clearly, the man is a Force user, he must have sensed the spy rather than seen him. Still, Force choking and mind probes are not the tools of a Jedi – who is this man?

“What information do you have on the three that accompanied the droids?”

“Two of them, the man that attacked me and the girl, no one knew, must have been offworlders. They were seen in a local cantina speaking to a pilot and left.” The Kubaz says, his fear growing by the moment. “The pilot I do know, Han Solo, of the _Millennium Falcon_. Jabba had a price on his head until earlier today, must have paid it off himself, I guess.”

“And the third?”

“A local boy, I spoke with a trader he bartered with, sold his speeder for a few thousand credits, was very green…” The creature begins to choke, he thrashes about trying to fight the invisible hands of the Force.

“His name?” Vader warns.

“Luke – Luke Skywalker, lives on a moisture farm nearby with a family by the name of Lars.” The alien sputters, still fighting against the choking hold of the Force.

Vader releases the Kubaz who slumps over, still standing only thanks to the stormtroopers holding him up on either side, he is gasping for breath. Vader’s hand remains outstretched, unmoving. The past attacks him like a sandstorm, wild and violent and uncaring.

“Skywalker?” Vader asks slowly. He must be sure.

“Yes, Luke Skywalker,” The alien rasps through his mask.

Vader’s arm swings to his side in a hard arc, he pushes out with the force throwing the Kubaz and his stormtrooper escort back into the sands. Confusion and anger whirl inside of Vader. How could this be? Surely the boy could not be – but the circumstances are too convenient, the facts line up too well. A Skywalker on the Lars’ farm, it wouldn’t be the first time. It would seem that more than just the memories of Anakin Skywalker lived on Tatooine.

* * *

“Ow!” Luke says as he shakes the hand the remote droid’s laser had hit.

Rey had dug the old thing out of one of the holds when Luke had expressed interest in the lightsaber Kylo and Rey had given him back in Kenobi’s house. Kylo stands back, watching impassively, tying not to think too hard about where he was or who he is with or the future, trying to blend in with the dingy walls of the old ship. He does, however, have to think about the past.

He has to remember the stories his family has told him, how things had happened last time. In a couple of days, they will arrive in the Alderaan system, but the star’s sole orbit will be gone, reduced to nothing but an asteroid field. Kylo has been to the Alderaanian Graveyard, he’s watched its last princess hold silent court over the field of dead rocks and lost souls, has seen her mourn what was lost.

Though he tries to deny it, to not let the idea linger, some part of Kylo wishes they could save the doomed planet. It’s the part of him that was raised as the Prince of Alderaan, the part that was raised by Leia Organa – but there’s nothing that can be done. Alderaan must meet its fate because that is what happened last time.

“Ouch!” Luke wails as he’s hit in the leg by another of the droid’s shots. “This is – gah!” He’s hit again, in the arm this time. “This is _impossible_!”

“It’s not impossible,” Rey scoffs, turning her attention away from the game of dejarik she’s started with Chewbacca. “Reach out with the Force, let it flow through you, guide your blade.”

“The Force? How do I – Jeez!” The droid hits him in the hand again and Luke flicks off his lightsaber. He flails the hilt at the floating ball. “Turn that thing off!”

Rey obliges, standing and switching off the training droid. She gently places it out of the way and sits cross-legged on the ground in the middle of the lounge. She gestures for Luke to do the same. He does so, but not before tossing his head back in frustration. Chewbacca moans in protest, reminding her that their game is not yet over.

“Treepio, take over for me, would you?”

“Oh, I will do my very best, Miss Rey.” The golden protocol droid says waddling over to the holoboard table. The Wookiee huffs an annoyed grunt but does not stop the droid.

“Okay,” Rey says, turning her attention back to Luke who is ruefully looking at the floor, his legs crossed underneath him, arms folded across his chest. Rey reaches out and takes both of his hands and places them on his knees. “Now, close your eyes, alright?”

“Alright,” Luke says, nodding and closes his eyes though Rey keeps hers open.

“Now, reach out.” Luke reaches one hand out into the air beyond his chest. For a moment it looks like Rey might laugh, but she holds back. She takes his hand again and gently replaces it on his knee. Luke opens one eye curiously. “Not like that, with your feelings. It might be harder in hyperspace, I’ve never… Just do your best.”

Luke raises an eyebrow at that but closes his eye again. Kylo watches his uncle’s steady breathing, his first meditation exercise. He looks so peaceful and young Kylo can almost forget their history, almost forget that this man had been his master, almost forget what happened in the end. Rey watches the young man carefully.

“Now,” She begins, her voice soft. “What do you feel?”

“You,” Luke begins slowly. “All of you, all of us… I can’t see you, but I can feel you, I guess.”

“Good, what else?”

“What else?” Luke scrunches up his face in concentration. “Um… Something, I don’t know, something _between,_ I think. Between you and me and Ben and Han and Chewie – between everything, connecting everything.”

“That’s the Force.” Rey says with a smile. “It’s the energy between all things – a _balance_ that binds the universe together.” She continues, sounding so much like the future Jedi Master Luke Skywalker Kylo almost laughs. “Do you feel it inside of you as well?”

“I do.” Luke smiles and inhales deeply as though he were breathing the Force itself. “I can feel it.”

Luke’s Force signature washes over Kylo like a swell in a storm. It tugs at him, threatening to pull him under into an ocean of memories both good and terrible, but he can’t let it. He tries to focus on his own breathing, the quick in and out of recycled ship air, but it doesn’t help. He has to get out of there, has to escape.

Kylo had always liked the forward hold of the _Millennium Falcon_ , it is the smallest of the three holds on the ship and always so dark and quiet. As a boy, he would hide here when his parents became too much for him to handle, they had always known not to bother him in here. He is tucked behind a box of something or other now. He looks at the durasteel wall beside him and tentatively runs his fingers over the smooth metal. In thirteen years, a young Ben Solo will carve his name into this wall with a sharpened bit of scrap metal. In twenty-one years he will kill his father.

The hold is too quiet now, everything is. Kylo had thought it would be a relief to have Snoke finally out of his head, and in many ways it was, but after twenty-nine years of knowing nothing else it has been difficult to adjust. It is difficult to see these younger versions of his father and uncle and not have the voice there to reinforce what he knows about them, to remind him of the crimes they have committed against him, or _will_ commit against him. When he sees them now, like this, with his head so quiet all he can see is his family and all he can feel is guilt and after months of pushing the feeling down, starving it with the Dark Side, it is threatening to consume him fully.

Kylo sighs deeply and rests the back of his head against the cold metal wall behind him. He closes his eyes if only to stem the tears he feels stinging them. He hears the hold door open with a soft _whoosh_ and knows without opening his eyes that it is Rey. Though he would prefer to be alone, he is glad that it is her and not literally anyone else on this ship.

He can feel her approach, a shining beacon of light wandering through the cosmos towards him. It wants to envelop him, to smother the darkness in his soul and, for a moment, he wants to let it. He feels her slide down the wall and take a seat next to him. Still, he does not open his eyes. He knows that he can’t in this moment.

“You’re in pain.” She says softly. Thankfully, she does not continue, does not explain what they both already know. If he is in pain it is only the pain that he has caused himself.

Kylo exhales slowly and rubs a hand over his eyes, luckily whatever wetness was there is gone now. He looks at her but she is looking off into the dark hold beyond, at the engineering station in front of them, perhaps, focusing on the lights, blue and red and green and yellow, blinking in the shadows. He watches the lights shifting on her face and, not for the first time, wishes that things were different.

“It is… difficult.” He says slowly, his voice is low and deep, tight with emotions he wishes he could banish with his blade. “I don’t expect any sympathy from you, so…” But he has nothing to say after that.

Even so, he can feel her sympathy, her grace, the deep well of her compassion, but Rey says nothing either.

“If you could just please,” He begins with a small puff of melancholic laughter. “Stop flirting with my… Stop flirting with him.” He can feel his chest tighten at the words but forces himself to breathe through it.

Rey looks at him now, hazel eyes wide, red and blue lights from the console across from them reflecting in the dark. Her mouth hangs open and she looks absolutely bewildered, shocked even.

“I’m not…” She sputters. “I’m not _flirting_ with him!”

“Trust me,” Kylo exhales quickly, a smirk forming on the corners of his lips. “Complementing the _Falcon_ is flirting with Han Solo.”

Rey laughs at that; it is quiet and secret and Kylo laments the fact that he's never heard her do that before now. Still, _he_ made her laugh. It fills him with warm pride which almost overshadows the colder, darker feelings swirling inside of him.

“Well, I’ll try, but I really do love this ship, you know?”

“I know.” Kylo says softly.

“It’s the first place that’s ever felt like home to me.”

“Well, I think that is something that you and Han have in common.”

Rey shifts a bit where she sits beside Kylo and he can hear something crinkling in the darkness.

“I brought you this,” She says quickly, handing him a ration bar wrapped in a clear plastic film. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“Thank you.” Kylo says taking the bar and unwrapping its plastic cover. He’s always hated these, they are salty and tough and chewy in all the wrong ways and he’s not particularly hungry right now, but something swells in him at the idea of Rey thinking about him, worrying about him and he eats it gladly.

He feels her stiffen beside him, feels her emotions boiling through the Force. Confusion, loneliness, longing, uncertainty. He is chewing on his tongue, contemplating asking her what is wrong, worrying about whether or not he wants to hear the answer, when she lays her head against his arm.

It's like his whole body sings. He is filled with a peace, a calm he only ever feels when she is near, when she is touching him. He longs to wrap an arm around her, pull her closer, but knows better than to try his luck.

Her posture is rigid at first, uncomfortable, but after a few moments of unmoving silence she relaxes, melts into him and Kylo feels like he is melting too. Something inside of him is thawing under the warm light of her presence so near.

He lays his head back as he finishes the food she brought him and closes his eyes, relishing in her closeness, in the warm feeling of her resting against his arm. In this moment it is all he wants or needs in the entire galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the gang's officially on the way to Alderaan... but Vader's not! Speaking of our favorite Darth Dad, the loth-cat is out of the bag! What's he going to do with this new information? I'm sure nothing that will impact our crew of good guys. Haha! Also, Kylo/ Ben got a bit of a break and a soft moment at the end of the chapter. He's had a very long, hard day and has been mostly good, so I think he deserved it. 
> 
> I want to thank everyone for their exceedingly kind comments and kudos and bookmarks. I love seeing everyone's feedback, it honestly makes my day! The next update will most likely be out the day after tomorrow. Thanks so much for reading!😊💕


	4. That's No Moon!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome to Alder –” Han’s smug-sounding welcome dies in his throat as he jerks the Falcon hard to the right. “Well, bantha-shit! Here we go again!”
> 
> \---
> 
> Poor Rey gets let down by her dark side bae, Luke scares his naughty nephew, Vader talks to his boss, and Kylo asks the ultimate question: "How can moons be real if our eyes aren't real?"

Vader can sense the devastation, the destruction, and the death on the Lars’ homestead before he sees the smoke, before his shuttle lands, before he sets foot on ground he swore he would never walk again.

The sand outside of the rounded structure of the entrance is blackened by fire, smoke and ash still billows from the doorways and windows as the interior still smolders. A handful of stormtroopers lie dead in the sand near the entrance, several of them clearly cut down by the blade of a lightsaber. The ‘dark man’ the Kubaz had mentioned, perhaps?

Reports had come in from the spaceport of an incident involving two other troopers and a tall man wielding a red ‘laser sword’, as many of the locals had called it. Vader is certain Skywalker the boy is with this man. Does the ‘dark man’ know of Luke’s relation to Vader? Could this be a rouge Sith agent looking to take Vader down through this boy? If that is the case, how did this Sith learn of the boy’s parentage?

The Empire’s spy network has been contacted, all eyes are now looking out for the _Millennium Falcon_ and its captain. Find them, and Vader is sure they will find the boy and his captors.

Two fresh graves have been dug, the Lars, Vader knows this. They sit beside two other graves. Vader looks down on the grave at his feet, a grave he dug a lifetime ago, the headstone has been worn down by the wind, the name blasted away by sand. It is the proof of his failure, the failure of Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin Skywalker failed his mother, he failed Padmé. Vader will not fail this boy.

* * *

Kylo wakes to find one of Rey’s signature buns nearly poking him in the eye, but he cannot find it in him to care. It would seem that both of them had fallen asleep in the dark quiet of their small sanctuary. Rey has tucked herself in against his chest, Kylo’s arm is draped around her, holding her close, his face buried in her hair. He breathes in deeply; it smells like sunshine and warmth and fresh air. He unconsciously nuzzles his nose into her, trying to bury himself further in her light.

Rey snorts and sputters, her sleep leaving her. She pulls up away from him slowly, her limbs still heavy with slumber. She looks up and blinks at Kylo languidly, he thinks he sees dazed happiness behind her hazel eyes, but he can’t say for sure. She smacks her mouth open and closed a few times, allowing waking clarity to return slowly. When it does, she pulls away from him and Kylo mourns the loss of her warmth.

“What time is it?” She asks, her voice is hushed in the quiet.

“I’m not sure.” Kylo responds, stifling a yawn.

He stretches the sleep from his sore limbs, sleeping upright against a durasteel wall is not exactly comfortable. Still, when was the last time he slept so soundly, without waking half a dozen times from the nightmares? Hell, when was the last time he slept at all?

Kylo stands in the dark and extends his hand to Rey. She looks at him, wide, hazel eyes wary, though she knows he only means to help her stand as well. He hopes she will take his hand, this small, seemingly insignificant sign of trust. He hopes she will accept his help with the same intensity as he had the last time he extended his hand to her, though the stakes had been far more drastic then. He feels the warm, calloused skin in his hand before his brain recognizes it is there.

She is looking up at him now, her hand still in his. He should move, should turn around, should leave the hold, but he’s frozen. They are as close as they were in the elevator on the _Supremacy_ when she said he would turn, when she said she would help him, when he should have kissed her. Should he kiss her now? Would she like that? His eyes flick down to her lips and then back to her eyes.

He turns but she keeps hold of his hand.

“Ben,” She says, her voice pleading, but he doesn’t know what she wants from him, what she needs. He watches the blinking lights flash on her face; green, yellow, red, blue.

“Rey,” He breathes.

“How are we going to get back home?”

Home. Kylo doesn’t have a home. Home is not the _Steadfast_ , there are no homes in the First Order. He’s heard it said that ‘home is where the heart is’, but he destroyed his heart long ago.

Although Kylo knows he and Rey do not belong in this time, though it both pains and confuses him to see his family so young and innocent, living reminders of a lifetime of mistakes yet to come, he dreads their return. The return to being her enemy, the return to being Supreme Leader.

For nearly seven years he’d craved nothing but power, he’d seen himself nowhere but Snoke’s throne, but now that he has the title and all of the power it grants, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hates ruling, hates all of the meetings, the delegations, playing politics with the pathetic generals. He hates greeting every morning sick and empty and alone after a night of fitful rest that could hardly be called sleep, regretting every decision he has made that led him to that moment.

Even so, he’s chosen his path, he’s built this destiny for himself, and no matter how broken and terrible it may be, he will stick to it. Any divergence now would be weakness, would be folly, would be to admit those things. He’d longed for power and he’d gotten it, everything has its price, Kylo is smart enough to know that.

“I don’t even know how we got here.” He says and he’s not quite sure if he means in the past or in this room but it’s probably both.

“What are we going to do when we get home?”

“What do you mean?”

“What are _you_ going to -”

“ _Rey_ ,” Kylo warns, turning around and dropping her hand. He can’t watch her plead for his soul again.

“Ben,” She says, her voice small and plaintive. “It’s not too late.”

“It is, Rey,” Kylo rounds on her again, pulling himself up to his full height. He wonders what she sees there in the dark, what the lights flashing yellow, red, green, and blue show on his face. “It _is_.”

How can Kylo make her understand? He’d made his decisions long ago; he’d done things that could never be undone. Didn’t she realize that if he turned his back on his chosen life now, he’d have to admit… he can’t! He can’t admit that everything he’s done, the pain he’s caused, the trail of wanton destruction, fire, blood, and death that was the past seven years of his life was for nothing.

He can’t – he’d killed his own father for – He can’t disrespect the man’s memory by admitting it had been meaningless, by admitting that he’s been a fool. Especially not when the man is just in the other room.

Being evil, he can handle. Being a monster, it is what he knows, but being wrong? Admitting that he was wrong, that he’s been tricked, that everything he’s fought for, killed for was a lie? He can’t do that.

“I chose my path a long time ago.” Kylo says sounding desperate to his own ears.

“You didn’t,” Rey implores. She reaches out to touch his arm, but Kylo wrenches it away. He can’t handle her peace and calm right now, it blinds him. “Snoke did.”

“You don’t know anything,” He says with a snarl, leaning down into her face.

She looks at him and he sees something in her eyes. She looks at him like she is remembering who he is, what he has done, what he can never be. _Good_ , he thinks. Both of them need the reminder.

He had allowed himself to forget for a moment, here in the dark quiet of his old childhood hideout. He had allowed himself to play pretend for a little while, pretending that Rey could feel for him what he felt for her, pretending that he was not a monster, but he was.

“You know that’s not true, Ben.” She says backing away from him. She looks disappointed. She looks hurt. She looks mournful. If she is mourning Ben Solo, she will be the only one.

Kylo tries to feel angry, but he fails miserably. He tries to grasp at the rage that is normally so within reach, but he finds nothing there – numbness surrounds him. He feels empty, like his chest has been carved out leaving only an aching hollowness inside and he’s the one holding the knife.

They leave the storage room and everything that transpired in the darkness behind them. They enter the lounge together side by side and, at first, it seems completely empty. Until, that is, Han pops his head out of the maintenance access and smirks at them knowingly.

“I was wondering where the two of you had gotten off to.” He says running a hand through his brown hair, slicking it back with grease, smearing oil on his forehead. “Thought maybe you’d fallen out one of the airlocks.” He laughs.

“I’m going to…” Rey says walking off, not finishing her thought or addressing either of them at all.

Kylo is about to leave as well, escape his spiraling thoughts, find a new hiding space or maybe just turn around and run back into the hold and lock the door behind him this time when Han Solo points a tool at him.

“Hey, can I get your help over here?”

“I – uh…” Kylo begins, his jaw tightening. Han’s words echo around in the hollow cavern of Kylo’s chest and he doesn’t understand them fully.

“Nothing major, I just need someone to hand me tools. Chewie and the kid went to sleep hours ago.” Han points the tool he is holding towards the toolbox sitting nearby the opening in the floor. “The help’d be appreciated.”

Kylo is frozen in his spot. He’s a boy again, eager to be of use, excited that his father wants his help. He is a man, angry and bitter and pushing away regret, spitting and snarling at memories of loneliness. He could just walk away, he wants to, but he finds that his legs approach the maintenance access opening of their own accord. He sits only half conscious of his actions, one leg draped over the side of the opening.

“Thanks,” Han says, inclining his head in appreciation.

Kylo silently watches the man work as he has so many times before. Han tightens a bolt and a pipe loosens blowing steam in his face, he fixes the pipe and a bit of circuitry is on the fritz. The ship is a temperamental one and she keeps her captain in check, always running, always fixing, always improving.

“Hey, big guy, could you hand me -” Han is cut short by Kylo placing a pylex driver in the man’s outstretched hand. The pilot looks perplexed for a moment, but once he realizes that Kylo has handed him exactly what he was going to ask for he smiles. “Thanks,”

“So, what happened with your girl?” Han asks from the bowls of the ship. Kylo nearly says that Rey is not ‘his girl’, that he has more than seen to that, but he worries that it will only encourage the pilot’s flirting and refrains. “I saw her face when she walked away, it’s never good when they walk away looking like that – trust me.” Han laughs.

“I would rather not say.” _She remembered I’m a monster._

“That bad, huh?” Han asks, tapping his fist against Kylo’s leg which twitches at the contact.

“Worse.”

They are silent again for some time and Kylo can swear that the spot where Han had touched his leg is burning and now his right cheek is burning and he can feel his father’s hand and he can see him fall and…

“What are you - what’s wrong with the ship?” Kylo asks needing to make sound, needing to stop his memories from consuming him.

“Well,” Han says, stretching his back. “It’s always something with the old girl.”

 _That’s for sure_. Kylo thinks.

“It’s the auxiliary cooling system that’s giving me trouble this time.” Han wipes his brow with the back of his hand.

 _Ah, that again._ That had been a common issue, or, it would be, Kylo supposes. Kylo watches the man struggle to find the solution for a little while longer, but soon his eyes glaze over and he sees Rey’s eyes in the hold, he sees his father’s eyes as he fell, the life slowly leaving them. His guilt starts to bite at him again, starts to claw its way back up his chest, threatening to grab hold of his blackened heart and never let go.

He needs a distraction, so he grabs a spanner and some bonding tape and jumps down into the maintenance shaft right next to Han Solo.

“May I?” Kylo says as he grabs the tool from Han’s hand and begins ducking and crawling through the bowls of the ship.

“Hey!” Han calls after him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kylo ignores the man’s protests and barrels further into the ship to where he knows the real issue to be, he knows because in a few years Han will show him how to fix it. By the time Han catches up with Kylo he is already lying under a large piece of machinery whose indicator is blinking red rapidly.

“You can’t just take a man’s tools,” Han grunts as he crouches and lies down next to Kylo. “and crawl through a man’s ship without asking, it’s wro – what are you doing?”

“You said it was the cooling system, right?” Kylo blinks and flinches as a bit of oil falls into his eye.

“Yeah but you’re – well shit!” Han laughs as Kylo finishes the repairs and the light stops blinking and switches to a steady green glow. “You did it, huh.”

The two men crawl their way back through the ship’s underbelly and lift themselves out of the maintenance hatch. Han throws Kylo a dirty rag to wipe the grime off of his face and hands.

“You know ships,” Han says, clearly impressed.

 _My father taught me_. Kylo thinks but cannot say.

* * *

Vader kneels on the small, black, circular dais in the holoprojection chamber before the flickering blue image of Darth Sidious. He has one knee raised, his forearm resting upon it. Tall black walls line the circular room bleeding seamlessly with the black ceiling and floor, a circular cavern of darkness.

“Lord Vader,” His master’s deep, rasping tone reverberates around the room. “Your return to the Death Star has been delayed. Why is that?”

Vader says nothing for a moment, his deep, mechanical breathing filling the silence. He cannot tell his master about the Skywalker boy, not yet, at least, not until he has more information. Still, he cannot lie to his master either.

“We received information from one of our spies on the planet pertaining to the droids we have been searching for.”

“And you chose to investigate this yourself, why?” Vader can sense that his mater is not pleased, he needs to give him more information, but what can he spare while also keeping his knowledge of the Skywalker boy a secret?

“I had sensed a great disturbance in the Force, I believed it to have originated on that planet.”

“Yes, I sensed this as well. Tell me what you have learned.” Vader’s master commands.

“There are reports of a man, clearly trained in the Dark Side of the Force. I believe he has the droids.” Vader explains leaving out what else he believes this ‘dark man’ to have taken, his anger rising even at the thought of it.

“Hmm,” His master hums, considering Vader’s information. “Tell me what you know of this man, of his intentions.”

“Not much is known of this man at this time. It is my belief that he could be a rogue Sith agent and either he or his master have sought out the Rebel’s information to undermine us.” Vader explains.

“Very disturbing news, indeed.” Sidious watches his masked apprentice for a long, quiet moment. His yellow eyes, tinted blue by way of hologram, stare at Vader, unblinking, studying, wondering. “And what of the Princess of Alderaan? Has she revealed the location of the Rebels’ base?”

The princess. With everything that has happened since her capture, Vader had nearly forgotten about their prisoner. His anger flares again at the thought of her, remembering her lies, so bald and open. Has she no idea who he is? He’d watched the Rebel scum transport the stolen information to her ship, he watched it fly away. Does she truly think him a fool? A diplomatic mission to Alderaan – if that were the case, why had she been found travelling thousands of lightyears in the wrong direction?

It had been a mistake to forget her, one that Vader will correct as soon as they reach the Death Star. He imagines her horror, her surprise upon seeing her beloved planet below them. She will tell them the location of the Rebel base or see her people die, she is a fool, but not so foolhardy that she would doom her planet, surely.

“Not yet, but she soon will. I will make sure of it.”

“See that you do, Lord Vader.” His master’s voice sounds near a growl now. He can feel Sidious’ anger. Does he suspect? Does he know?

“Of course, Master.” Vader intones, inclining his head respectfully as the holoprojected image of his master falters and fades away.

Vader stands slowly. What does Sidious know? He had told Vader that Padmé had died, that Vader had killed her in his anger – but that could not be true, not if this Skywalker boy is what he suspects, who he suspects. A son; the Force tells him it is true. Vader’s master would want to learn of the boy, but Vader does not trust his master with that knowledge.

What if the boy is strong with the Force? Sidious would want him turned, which was possible, or killed if not – something Vader could not allow. Perhaps he and the boy could… These are thoughts for another time. They will arrive in the Alderaanian system soon and there is still much to prepare.

* * *

Kylo does his best to avoid everyone, especially Rey, for the next day and a half, either by hiding out, as he is doing now, or by blending into the shadows in the corners of the ship. He keeps his eyes to the ground as often as possible, memorizing the metal floor grates, there are too many memories trapped everywhere else. As nervous as Kylo is for everything that is about to happen on the Death Star, especially the imminent confrontation with Vader – something he is deliberately choosing to not mentally unpack now, he is eager to leave this ship.

There’s still no telling how he and Rey will get back to their correct time. Kylo is hoping, though, when has that ever helped him, that once the timeline here is restored, they will be returned. He’s half convinced himself that they were brought here not as a cruel trick of the Force, but to correct the timeline error that started when Kenobi died. He has to let himself hope that this what will happen, he doesn’t know what they will do otherwise.

There are only a few standard hours left in the journey when Kylo finds himself stalking towards the crew cabin. Luke and Chewbacca are in the middle of a heated, if fairly one-sided, game of sabacc while Rey is in the cockpit with Han, the two of them surely gushing over the _Falcon_ yet again, so Kylo knows that the cabin will be quiet and empty.

He lies down on one of the lower bunks, not even bothering to pull the thin, itchy blanket up over him, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t even mean to sleep, just to relax in the quiet and the dark and to escape. Sleep comes for him anyway.

For the most part, his sleep is blissfully dreamless, just a wandering, unconscious darkness, but then he is back on the nightmare bridge on Starkiller Base. His father is looking at him, but now Han Solo is young and roguish. Those hazel eyes fill with the love and forgiveness that haunts Kylo’s waking hours as he runs his blade through the man, then Han presses one young hand to Kylo’s cheek and scars him worse than Rey’s blade ever could.

Then he is in the throne room of the _Supremacy_. He holds his hand out to Rey. He hands her his heart, his soul, his power, his throne – everything he has. She reaches her hand out and for a heartbreaking moment it seems like she will take it, take him, but she reaches for the blade instead. Just like every other time he begs her to stop, to stay, but she doesn’t, she never does.

“Ben,” A voice, startlingly familiar, cuts through the haze of nightmare-filled sleep.

Kylo wakes with a start to find his uncle standing over his bed in the dark, jostling his shoulder, trying to rouse him. It doesn’t matter to Kylo’s sleep-addled mind that Luke is only nineteen, that there is no blade in his hand, all it sees is a threat.

Kylo scrambles back against the wall behind him, frantic and covered in a cold sweat. He shoots one arm out and throws the younger man back against the far wall by the entrance to the room. Luke screams as he flies back and hits the durasteel wall with a thud. Kylo frantically grasps at his hip for his lightsaber but reality catches up to him before his hand finds the hilt.

“Hey, let me go!” Luke cries from the wall, struggling against the hold Kylo still has on him. He slumps to the ground as his nephew releases him. “What was that about?”

Kylo just looks at the young man, his own eyes wide and wild, his breathing heavy and labored because he just cannot get enough air in his lungs, because for a moment he was back in the hut on Yavin IV and death had come for him in the form of his uncle.

“I, uh – I apologize.” He manages to say through gasping breaths, his heart is pounding at his rib cage, threatening to break him apart. “I – bad memories.”

“Han says we’re nearly there, I just wanted to let you know.” Luke says rubbing his arm where it must have hit the wall. “Jeez, I must have really spooked you.”

“You could say that.” Kylo says, sitting up. He focuses on slowing his breathing. He cards one hand through sweat dampened hair and he realizes that it is shaking.

Kylo stays in the dark room for a little while after Luke leaves, lets his nerves return to him, lets his body relax. Once he thinks he is sufficiently calm he joins the rest of the _gang_ in the cockpit. Han is preparing the ship to drop out of hyperspace. Luke is sitting on the edge of his seat, his hands clinging to the back of Han’s chair. Rey is standing, she does not look at Kylo, but she must feel him approach as her posture goes rigid. His heart constricts at the sight.

 _What’s the plan? You never told me._ She pushes through the bond. Her tone is cold, sharp. She still will not look at him, but it is probably for the best.

 _Alderaan will be gone when we arrive._ He says trying not to sound despondent. _Just an asteroid field._

Kylo watches Rey nod sadly in acceptance and continues. He tells her the bedtime stories of his childhood, the fairytales of his family where his mother is the princess, his uncle the brave knight, and his father the swashbuckling pirate. The daring rescue clad in stormtrooper armor, the escape into the trash compactor – something he is decidedly not looking forward to – Kenobi’s death by the hands of his former padawan. Rey’s eyes widen the moment he mentions Vader.

 _Kenobi faced him last time._ Kylo explains. _One of us will…_

 _It should be both of us._ Rey says shortly. She looks at him now, her hazel eyes are dark, maybe sad as they narrow at him. _You know that._

Kylo chews the inside of his cheek. He knows that she’s right. They fight better together, they’d proved that in the throne room. Still, everything he is rebels against the idea of Rey being anywhere near his grandfather. He still has nightmares of what Snoke did to her, what he allowed Snoke to do. Her screams…

He shakes his head to clear the memories and Rey glares at him.

 _Alright_. He responds vaugley.

“Okay folks,” Han Solo says, his hand fisted around the hyperdrive switch. “You might want to hold on to something.”

The ship lurches violently as Han cuts in the sublight engines and the white and blue lines of hyperspace give way to the inky, star-filled blackness of realspace. Luke nearly falls onto his face as the ship shudders and adjusts to its new reality but manages to keep himself upright.

Kylo cannot breathe. Rey has grasped the sleeve on his arm, whether to balance herself or to get his attention, Kylo cannot say. He’s not sure he could say anything right now. He’s certain he knows the exact kind of bewilderment and confusion Han, Luke, Chewbacca and Obi Wan Kenobi must have felt when they arrived at their destination to find nothing but rocks and the dead dreams of Alderaan floating through space, because none of that is there now. Instead, Kylo is inexplicably looking down on the blue and green home planet of his mother.

Were they early? Would the planet blow up in only a moment or two now, would he witness the destruction of his birthright just as his mother had, at the same time his mother will? Was Vader holding her back now, forcing her to watch as the weapon was prepared? It didn’t make sense, from everything he had heard as a child, Alderaan should be dead and gone by now, what happened?

“Welcome to Alder –” Han’s smug-sounding welcome dies in his throat as he jerks the _Falcon_ hard to the right. “Well, _bantha-shit_! Here we go again!”

Kylo’s attention had been so thoroughly captured by the impossible blue-green planet covered in swirling white clouds below them that he only now notices the line of star destroyers surrounding it. Inexplicably, none of the larger ships fire on the _Falcon_ , though about half a dozen TIE fighters give chase. Han continues his evasive maneuvers and turns his head to half look back at the three behind him.

“Two of you, man the gunners – there’s one above and one bellow.” He shouts.

“Uh – Who should…” Luke starts.

“I don’t _care_ who, kid! Do ya wanna get blasted out of the sky?”

Chewbacca growls something about getting a move on it, but Kylo finds that he is still frozen, shocked motionless by the sight of Alderaan spread before them.

“Move it!” Rey says, pushing Kylo out of the way as she dashes towards the gunner seat.

“At least one of you’s got the right idea!” Han yells.

This kicks Kylo into action as well. Rey has taken the turret below the ship so Kylo climbs into the one up top. He throws himself in the seat and kicks on the targeting computer. He whips the turret around and the gun swings wildly. Kylo has been in this ship hundreds of times, has even sat in this seat, but never had the reason or occasion to use the weaponry.

He aims at an incoming TIE and fires. It blows apart in a burst of fire and debris. He sees a second barrage of red laserfire hit two of the incoming enemy ships reducing them to nothing but space dust.

 _Nice shot._ Kylo thinks almost on instinct with no real intention to send the thought over to his bondmate. He feels hesitation from Rey’s side of the bond before she responds.

_Thanks._

The _Falcon_ dips and dives wildly avoiding the incoming TIEs amassing quickly on the light freighter. Kylo’s turret seat whips violently, out of his control for a moment, his head thrashing from side to side with the movement. Rolling his neck to relieve some of the pain, he targets a second TIE and fires. The small black ship blows apart and their pursuer is no more.

The ship lurches again as Han pushes the craft down towards the planet, but Kylo is now used to the erratic swinging of turrets seat and compensates for it while aiming at a third TIE. Just as it seems they are clearing out the enemy ships, more descend upon them. Kylo and Rey take them out as efficiently as possible, Han’s erratic evasions not helping their situation.

Kylo notices that most of the TIEs on their tail are not firing at them, and those that are seem to be intentionally missing. It almost feels like they are being herded, like the small fighters are trying to push them in a specific direction – maybe back towards the larger ships? Either way, the _Falcon_ ’s pilot is too skilled to be pushed around anywhere by a handful of TIE fighters.

They have only two ships following them as they break through the atmosphere and begin gliding over the green valleys and tall, snowy mountains of Alderaan. Kylo and Rey take out one each and wait for a while in their respective turrets, waiting for more to follow their pursuit – but none come.

Kylo and Rey return to the cockpit as it flies gently down towards the planet’s capital, Aldera. It is nighttime in Aldera, but that does little to lessen the natural beauty of the planet. Rey steals an anxious glance at Kylo as she takes a place next to him behind the _Falcon_ ’s viewport.

_What’s going on? I thought you said…_

_I know, it should be, or shouldn’t be – I don’t know._

“I’ve never seen anywhere like this place!” Luke breaths, his voice full of awe. He’s pushed himself up to the front, squeezed between Han and Chewbacca. “It’s incredible – there’s so much _green_!”

Kylo has seen images, holovids of Aldera, has heard stories of the deep blue lake that surrounds the capital city, of the snow-capped mountains that boarder it on all sides, of the tall, rounded, white buildings all made of synthstone, but he has never really seen it, of course. It is in front of him now, real, tangible and so very beautiful, it nearly put his mother’s vivid tales to shame.

“We need to land at the palace’s spaceport.” Kylo manages to rasp through his confusion and wonder.

“You got a clearance code for that?” Han asks suspiciously from the pilot’s seat.

“Don’t need one.” Kylo responds simply. “Tell them we need to speak with Bail Organa, we have a message from his daughter, Princess Leia.”

They are given permission to land almost immediately at the Organa family’s personal spaceport on the palace grounds. They are greeted by the royal family’s personal guard and one man, tall and tan with dark hair going grey at the temples, he is dressed impeccably and carries himself with a regal kind of confidence.

“I am Bail Organa,” Kylo’s adoptive grandfather begins, his voice deep and rich but tinged at the edges with fraying nerves. “You’ve spoken with my daughter?”

“Not exactly,” Luke begins. “There was a message from her on this ‘R2’ unit, she said we needed to deliver it to you on Alderaan.”

“Where is she?” Bail asks, the worry in his voice clear.

“She was captured by the Empire.” Kylo says plainly, his mind is elsewhere. He is staring up into the night sky, he can’t even see the dark shadow pass over Bail’s face.

_Rey, the moon…_

“No,” Bail breathes, one hand desperately clutches the fabric on his chest. “Leia, I – Who are you?”

“This is Rey and Ben,” Luke says, pointing to each of them in turn. “And Han and Chewie, and I’m Luke.”

 _What about it?_ Rey asks as she joins Kylo in looking up at the sliver-white orb floating in the pitch-black sky above them, casting their surroundings in soft light.

“L-Luke?” Bail stutters slightly around the name, staring at the blond boy intently, perhaps studying his features, his dark eyes wide in what might be recognition.

“Luke Skywalker.”

Bail inhales sharply and quickly invites all of them inside. Kylo stays staring at the moon, Rey strides up next to him. Sensing his dawning fear and realization she grabs his arm.

_Ben, what is it?_

_The moon, Rey… Alderaan never had a moon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to throw a bit of ice water on the soft warmness of the end of the last chapter (please don't hate me!) Kylo's not Ben (... mostly) and he's still got a bit of a journey ahead of him. I think he'd have a hard time just letting go of everything he's done and switching over to the light side. He's still got a lot of #issues to work out. He did get to have an actual (kind of) nice interaction with his papa though. 
> 
> Also, is Alderaan safe? Is it okay? - Yes! Yay! Alderaan protection squad roll out! Will that last? Well, I think that floating ball of menace in the sky might have something to say about that - we'll see!!
> 
> Thanks so, so much for the kind comments and kudos and everything. I love nothing more than reading your feedback 💕💕💕! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I've been struggling with this one for a while, but I'm pretty happy with the end result. Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	5. Big Trouble in Little Aldera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aladeraan is already in danger!” Kylo is shouting now, his hands clenched in tight fists by his sides. He is very nearly shaking with the need for them to understand, the need for them to listen. “They’re going to use that weapon – the Death Star¬ – whether you attack or not!”
> 
> “And how do you know that?” Breha asks, eying Kylo suspiciously. 
> 
> “I – you have to believe me.” He grunts, frustration coursing through his veins. He runs one hand through his hair and tugs on it, hard. “You have to, or we’re all dead.”
> 
> \---
> 
> Bail and Breha get some bad news, Vader gets some good, Han and Chewie get mad, and Kylo and Rey try out some new stress relieving techniques.

“ _Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope._ ” The princess pleads.

Kylo still cannot look on the holoprojected image of his teenage mother, but he does not turn away this time. He can see her blue, translucent figure out of the corner of his eye and he pretends it doesn’t bother him. He also refuses to look out of the tall, floor to ceiling window in the private office of Bail Organa, refuses to stare at the artificial not-a-moon hanging in the night sky.

The office is a warm, inviting one, full of rich woods and warm colors. Actually, it is reminiscent of Leia’s office in their apartment in Hanna City. Kylo had always thought the ornate office stuck out like a sore thumb among the modernity of the rest of the apartment’s rooms, he understands why now.

Kylo, Rey, and Luke sit in elegant, uncomfortable chairs on one side of a red-wood desk. Han and Chewbacca have elected to keep some distance from the nobility, something that surprises Kylo very little. The smuggler and the Wookiee hang back near the entrance of the room, leaning back against the wood-paneled walls, though Kylo does catch Han watching the princess’ hologram with rapt attention.

Kylo studies Bail’s face, watches his deep lines fill with worry for his only daughter’s safety, his dark brows drawing together with concern. A woman stands beside Bail clutching his shoulder tightly. He’d brought over a chair for her to sit in next to him, but she had refused. She is a beautiful woman, Breha Organa, with olive skin and dark eyes. Her black hair, streaked with grey, is done up in an elaborate braid mimicking a crown on the back of her head. Even at this late hour, the Queen of Alderaan is the picture of royalty.

Kylo’s memories are drawn back, unwillingly, to his time spent in the Jedi temple on Yavin IV. There had been large statues of Bail and Queen Breha at the Great Temple, the one used as a base during the First Galactic Civil War. He and his mother had paid their respects at the shrine of sorts every time she had visited him. To see his step-grandparents here, made of living flesh and bone instead of stone is bizarre, to say the least.

“Oh, Leia,” Bail rubs one hand over his eyes in despair. Breha seems completely lost for words, utterly lost in her own sorrow. He sighs deeply and then his attention snaps up. “Wait, where’s Obi Wan?”

“He’s dead.” Kylo responds flatly. Bail’s face falls to horror, his mouth hangs open and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“No,” He gasps. “How – How?” He repeats, it seems it is all he can say.

“He was attacked by Tusken Raiders.” Kylo explains.

“It’s my fault.” Luke says, his words heavy with guilt.

“No,” Rey says turning to him. “No, it was no one’s fault.”

Bail closes his eyes and sighs deeply. He rubs his temple in a way that reminds Kylo so of Leia. How many of her mannerisms had she inherited from her adoptive parents? Kylo is so lost in thoughts of Leia Organa that he doesn’t even see Bail stand.

“Well, I must thank you for bringing us this message.” Bail says putting an arm around his wife and pulling her close. “The information is being transferred to the Alliance as we speak over a secure comm-line. As part of our thanks, all of you are welcome to stay in the palace until -”

Stay in the palace? No! They have to leave, they _all_ have to leave. Do the Queen and Prince Consort of Alderaan not see the danger they are in? Have they not noticed the planet-killing weapon floating above their heads like a threat, like a promise?

“I’m sure you’ve noticed your newest satellite?” Kylo asks dryly. Bail’s head flicks toward the window behind him, but he does not look out of it.

“Yes, we have.” Breha is the one to speak. Where her back had once been bowed by the grief of a mother it now stands straight and firm, a Queen through and through.

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.” Breha says, her tone clipped. Kylo clenches his teeth.

“Then you know the danger we are in staying here!” He rises from his seat quickly, the chair toppling to the ground behind him.

“Danger?” Luke asks from his chair, his eyes widening. He looks from Kylo to Breha to Rey.

“We need to get off of this planet – as soon as possible.” Kylo says ignoring Luke.

He never should have allowed them to _land_ on Alderaan. He’d been too in shock to stop it, to come up with some explanation or to just steal the ship controls away from Han and fly them directly into the path of the Death Star. He puts on his best Supreme Leader voice, but he’s going up against a queen.

“When you arrived, did you not see the blockade?” Breha asks, her chin held high, clearly showing him that she will not be subdued by his intimidating size or tone. “No one has been able to leave or enter Alderaanian space since they arrived a standard day ago.”

“No one but you.” Bail says, inclining his head towards the group. “I was surprised we had a request for landing at all, but once I learned it was – Han Solo, isn’t it?” Bail turns his dark-eyed gaze on the pilot.

“Why does everyone seem to know who I am these days?” Han asks, sounding more annoyed than anything.

“Well, you are the most wanted man in the galaxy at the moment.” Bail explains plainly.

“What?” Han balks. “What do you…”

“Yes, well, It would seem that over the past few days the Empire has been using their vast resources to search the galaxy for one Han Solo and the crew of the _Millennium Falcon…_ brought back, _alive_ – It was half the reason we allowed you to land here.”

“You’ve gotta be…” Han Solo seems, impossibly, lost for words. “I don’t have a _crew_.” Han shouts, focusing on, in Kylo’s opinion, the least pertinent point of information. Chewbacca moans incredulously. “You’re not crew, Chewie, you’re… Son of a -” He pounds a fist hard against the wood-paneled wall. Art fixtures shake, threatening to fall to the ground. Han doesn’t move after that, just silently seethes with one fist and his forehead still pressed to the wall.

“Leia – _your daughter_ – is up there!” Kylo says, his voice rising. He points frantically at the false moon in the sky above them. Bail takes a step back, Breha blanches, grasping at her husband’s midnight-blue colored robes.

“How – How do you know that?” Bail asks.

“I -” _Damn it_. “I just know.” Kylo explains lamely. Bail looks like he’s going to ask more questions, so Kylo continues quickly. “We’ve got to get out of here, can’t the _Rebel Alliance_ do something? That’s a planet killer up there.” He thrusts his finger up at the Death Star again

“What?” Luke and Han shout at nearly the same time. Chewbacca also cries out in surprise.

“Exactly,” Breha says, finding her voice again. She looks up at Kylo, her dark eyes watery, but there is strength behind them also. “We cannot risk the safety of Alderaan, even for -” She chokes on her words and her husband holds her tighter. “Leia wouldn’t want that.” She says and Kylo knows that she is right, but they can’t just _stay_ – for so many reasons.

“Well, we’re sure as hell not staying on this -” Han begins, but Bail cuts him off.

“I would especially suggest you lay low for a while.” Bail says meaningfully. Han groans at that and storms out of the room, Chewbacca following close behind.

“Aladeraan is already in danger!” Kylo is shouting now, his hands clenched in tight fists by his sides. He is very nearly shaking with the need for them to understand, the need for them to _listen_. “They’re going to use that weapon – the _Death Star –_ whether you attack or not!”

“And how do you know that?” Breha asks, eyeing Kylo suspiciously.

“I – you have to believe me.” He grits out through clenched teeth, frustration coursing through his veins. He runs one hand through his hair and tugs on it, hard. “You have to, or we’re all _dead_.”

“The weapon has been in our orbit for over two standard days, if they were going to use it, surely they would have by now.” Breha says, but Kylo can feel her confidence wavering.

“Perhaps, my dear, it couldn’t hurt to reassess the situation with the Alliance?” Bail asks, clearly struggling to remain the calm diplomat.

Breha chews on her husband’s question for a moment before sighing and nodding sharply.

“I agree.” She says, her tone clipped. Bail turns to Kylo and the others.

“As I said, you are all welcome to stay here until -” _Until we’re all blown to space dust_ , Kylo thinks. “Well, I’ll have someone show you to your rooms, follow me.”

A very worried looking Luke is whispering quiet questions Kylo cannot hear to Rey as they begin to follow Bail and Breha out into the hall. Slowly, lost in thoughts, half-formed plans, and fears, Kylo takes the rear of the small group.

They’re all doomed, he realizes with a sinking feeling. He’s in the middle of considering mind tricking everyone into getting back on the _Falcon_ and just hoping they aren’t blasted out of the sky when someone strong grabs the back of his collar and pulls him back and around a corner.

Kylo is thrown against a cold stone wall by Chewbacca who presses one large hand against Kylo’s shoulder, keeping him held down to the hard surface. An irate Han moves in on Kylo.

“I think we need to discuss the subject of my payment.” Han snarls.

 _Bantha-shit_. Of course, Kylo now owes Han ten thousand credits he does not have. He cringes despite himself, but quickly schools his features into a cold and impassive calm.

“Of course,” Kylo says, trying to sound as collected as possible given the situation. “I will speak with Bail about getting you -”

“No,” Han says slowly, a wicked smile spreading across his face, fire in his eyes. “I think we need to _renegotiate_ ,” He punctuates each syllable of the word by pressing one finger hard into Kylo’s chest. “My price.”

“Renegotiate?” Kylo balks, incredulous. “No. I’ll get you the ten thousand and then -”

“No, I think you misunderstand,” Han says with a sneer. “I’m not asking, I’m telling.”

“How much?” Kylo asks with a huff, wondering how much the smuggler thinks his trouble is worth.

“Let’s see,” Han says, screwing up his face in a sarcastic mockery of deep thought. “Chewie, How much do you think making me the most wanted man in the galaxy is worth? _Ruining_ me!” Han shouts the last part, his face turning a violent shade of red. Kylo does not flinch. He’s used to the sound of Han yelling, though it usually had not been directed at him.

Chewbacca grunts an incredible sum of money.

“That’s ridiculous!” Kylo says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. I think my name is worth at least a hundred thousand credits.” Han says, narrowing his eyes. “Or, maybe I’ll find out what the Empire is offering and double it.”

“You’re insane.” Kylo says, his voice low and flat.

“No, I’m angry.” Han growls.

“Well, I don’t have a hundred thousand credits.”

He watches Han stare intently at him, hazel eyes wide with fury, teeth grinding together in indignation. Kylo is surprised when Han almost visibly deflates, closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“Listen,” He sighs. “I figure you’re probably a good guy, if a little uptight.” Kylo does flinch at that. Chewbacca grunts in confusion, but Han doesn’t seem to notice. “Helping this princess and the rebels and all… But I never asked for that!” Han rounds on Kylo again, his anger returning, which Kylo is grateful for. Han’s anger he can handle, but the man calling him a ‘good guy’? Absolutely not.

“Yes, I know.” Kylo sighs. He grinds his teeth. “I… apologize.” The two words come out unbearably slow and both Han and Chewbacca seem less than convinced of the genuine sentiment behind the apology. “This was never my intention. I had no idea any of this would happen.” Kylo admits. That bit, at least, is true. “But I don’t have that kind of money.” In imperial credits or in this time period.

“We’ll figure _something_ out, I’m sure.” Han says lowly. “You _owe_ me, big guy. I haven't figured out what yet, but when I do, you’ll pay up.” Han adds, fisting his hand in Kylo’s black shirt.

“Yeah?’ Kylo says with a half smirk because he can’t help himself.

“Yeah,” Han says and it sounds like a threat. “And if you don’t, you’re not gonna answer to me.” Han says, pointing his thumb at his own chest. “You’re gonna answer to him.” He points the thumb at Chewbacca now who moans in threatening agreement, thrusting Kylo back against the wall. “Understood?”

“Understood.”

* * *

Darth Vader is in his hyperbaric meditation chamber; his mask is off. It is a relief to be able to see the world through his own eyes, even if all he can see is the sterile, stark white walls of his hexagonal life-support pod, even if his eyes are closed now. It is a relief to breath without the use of his mask, the simple process of the highly pressurized pure oxygen entering and exiting his lungs is a pleasure. The silence it affords is a simple joy, to be able to just be without the heavy, mechanical rasp dogging his every breath, to hear only the soft beeping of the machinery that surrounds him, the dulled roar of the ship’s engine. It is the only peace he can know.

Vader’s respite is interrupted by the beeping of the alert system inside of his meditation chamber. Someone is trying to reach him. Vader opens his eyes and his vision is filled with the pure, white of the chamber walls. He presses a button next to him and his mask lowers back down onto his head with a soul-numbing _hiss_ and Vader’s vision is washed in red, full of holoprojected readouts, artificial.

The hyperbaric chamber opens, the pressurized air escaping with a soft whisper, and the seat turns to face his audience. Admiral Montferrat stands at attention at the foot of the chamber, his cold features illuminated by the bright lights from inside the pod. His face is gnarled and mangled by a scar crossing the left side of his face, the eye bisected by that scar left white, clouded, and unseeing by whatever injury gave him the mark.

“Lord Vader,” Admrial Montferrat begins, leaning into a shallow but respectful bow. Vader waits silently for the admiral to continue, to explain why his mediation has been interrupted. “We’ve had word the _Millennium Falcon_ has been spotted in the Alderaan System. They were pursued but managed to evade capture. They landed somewhere on the planet near the capital.”

“Organa,” Vader responds lowly, his anger rising.

He’d long suspected the Organas’ involvement in the Rebellion, even before the capture of the princess, and this was simply more proof of that. This is less than ideal as it has now been assured that the rebels have received the information they stole in the attack on Scariff. Still, Vader has larger worries – the Skywalker boy. Does the Rebellion want him as a bargaining chip? If so, how had they learned of his existence? Vader is sure Kenobi, his now dead former master, was behind this, he had to have been.

Even more confusing, why is the rogue Sith, the ‘dark man’, as Vader has come to think of him, working with the Rebellion? Why is the Rebellion working with him? There are too many unanswered questions.

“Your orders, my Lord?” The admiral says, clasping his hands behind his back, his eyebrows raising a fraction.

“Prepare my shuttle, I will want it ready to leave as soon as we arrive in the Alderaan System.” Vader commands. “Tell the fleet to keep up the blockade on Anderaan. No ships enter, no ships leave. No exceptions. If the _Millennium Falcon_ is spotted again, it is to be captured, _not_ destroyed – and see that it does not escape this time, Admiral.”

“Understood.” Admiral Montferrat says with a short nod. “Right away, Lord Vader.”

The admiral turns and leaves. Vader breathes deeply, the rasping sound of his inhale is grating against his audio receptors. Vader is sure the Skywalker boy is on Alderaan, waiting for him, being held from him. That is about to end.

* * *

Kylo is on an exterior balcony overlooking the city of Aldera. The sun is only just beginning to make itself known along the mountain range in the distance, casting soft grey-gold lighting over the land. Kylo leans against the a thick synthstone railing lining the balcony, his head in one of his hands, looking over the view.

Aldera is beautiful. He watches the way the soft early morning light plays on the lake surrounding the city, the way it shines on the snow covering the mountain tops, the way it paints the white stone of the buildings below. He tries to ignore the splendor, to turn away from it, to focus on the danger he is in, that they are all in, but all he can think about is how he would like to tell his mother that he’s seen it.

He wants to tell her that, as impossible as it is, he’s seen her homeworld, her _home_. He’s met the people who raised her. He hates that he wants these things, but he cannot deny that he does. He hates it because he shouldn’t want to speak with her at all. She is the leader of the Resistance, and more than that, he is not her son anymore – he’s seen to that. Even if he could speak to her, she would never want to see him, not after what he’s done.

He grips the balcony and screams into the morning air, he roars into the quiet, sleepy, doomed city on a doomed planet under a killer fake moon. What is he supposed to do? What has he done wrong?

He pushes away from the balcony. Every muscle in his body is tightened, tense, coiled tightly like a spring. He feels simultaneously like he is coming apart at the seams and like he is ready to explode. His blood boils in his veins and he can feel the darkness gather around him, hungry for his rage. He welcomes it. His fingers itch for his lightsaber. He grabs it from his waist and ignites the weapon which screams to life with the same crackling instability of his soul.

He screams again as he takes his blade to the synthstone wall. It does not melt or spark like the durasteel walls aboard a star destroyer, and the wall is too thick to be truly impacted by the hot plasma of the weapon, but it does create satisfying black streaks in the soft, white stone. He rages, letting his voice go ragged.

 _Ben_. Rey’s voice sounds through Kylo’s head. It’s the only way he is able to hear it over the blood thundering in his ears. She sounds annoyed, but it’s tinged with concern.

 _Not a good time._ He warns. He can feel her draw nearer, but he needs her to stay away. He is a storm, he is ruin, he is devastation, and he doesn’t want her to get caught in it.

_… Obviously._

_Stay away._

Kylo continues his assault on the palace wall.

_Stop, Ben._

_Why?_ He growls through the bond.

Why should he stop? Why shouldn’t he just keep going, destroy everything? It’s all he’s ever been good at; all he’s ever been good for. All he had to do was hire Han and get them to the Death Star and he even messed that up. He couldn’t even get captured correctly.

“Ben,”

Kylo froze. Rey is here now, on the balcony. His back is to her, but he can feel her there. He lowers his lightsaber slowly, his arm still shaking with unreleased rage, but he does not turn it off. He turns around and looks at Rey through the dark hair that hangs in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” She asks, unimpressed.

“What does it look like?” He snarls.

“It looks like you were fighting a wall.”

“I – _Rey!_ ” He howls as he flicks his lightsaber off and throws himself back towards the balcony, turning his back to her. He cannot look on her disappointment again. “I don’t know what to do.” He confesses ruefully. “Everything is _wrong_ , and I don’t know what I did – what I’m supposed to do.” He runs his hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes.

“And attacking the wall helps?” Rey asks flatly.

“I – _Yes_!” He cries out into the Alderaanian air, one fist pounding on the hard, stone railing. It hurts and he is glad for it.

Something new rages inside of Kylo. Why is he trying to explain himself to her? Why does he care what she thinks? He is weak, pathetic. He slams his hand on the stone again and hopes that it is broken.

“Stop,” She chastises, and that angers him more. Who does she think she is? His master? This _Jedi_ girl with only half – “You’re angry, frustrated, confused, scared…” She accuses and Kylo turns around again, his eyes burning. He opens his mouth to scream again, but she cuts him off. “You think you’re the only one?” Her voice is low now.

“I – what?” He asks, taken aback. His surprise has momentarily cooled his temper.

“I’m stuck in the past too, Ben.” She says, her face set in a deep scowl. “You think I’m not frustrated and confused and scared? I am – all the time! I know even less about what’s going on than you do. I didn’t grow up with these stories! I have no idea what to expect. I have nothing to go on but what _you_ tell me. You want to talk _frustrating_? You -” She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “Never mind! What I’m trying to say is that I am following your lead here, I don’t have a choice, so you can’t just blow up like that – we need to think of something, come up with some kind of plan.”

“That is what I came out here to do.” Kylo confesses quietly. “But I can’t –”

“I know,” Rey says with a huff that seems almost humorous. “Sitting down, staying still and planning aren’t exactly my _forte_ either, but we need to try.”

“I don’t think I can.” His mind is still reeling, his blood is still pounding through him, hungry for destruction. The Dark Side still swirls around him, angry and cold. “I can’t… think like this.” He grits out through clenched teeth. Rey is right, Kylo knows that, but he just can’t stop this once it starts, he’s never been able to, even when he was a boy.

“Is that why you were attacking the wall?” She asks, nothing but curiosity in her voice. A desire or maybe a need to understand his actions, to understand him. “You were trying to calm down?”

Kylo says nothing, just looks away from her, and that is all the affirmation she needs.

“Well, I think there are less destructive ways to do that.” Rey says and it sounds like she is rolling her eyes. Kylo’s hand clenches into a fist again, but he says nothing. “When I’m… agitated,” Rey begins, choosing her words carefully. “There are a few things I like to do that calm me down. Meditation, for one.”

Kylo shoots Rey a withering stare. It’s not that he never mediates, he actually does so often – out of necessity. There are only so many nights in a row one can go without sleep and meditation has a similar resting effect on the body. Still, He is certain that he will not be able to _center himself_ while the Death Star hangs in the sky above their heads.

“Tinkering – you know, on droids, ships, _anything_ , really. Or…” She unclips her lightsaber from her belt and twists it around in her hand, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. “Sparring.”

“You want to… spar?” Kylo asks, tilting his head, the beginnings of a smile forming on his face, mostly from confusion.

“Why not?” Rey asks, her smile spreading, her blue blade coming to life in her hand. “You’ll get to swing your saber, and you won’t have to carve up the palace walls – I think it’s a good idea.”

“And you want this as well?”

“I really do.” Rey agrees lowly, fire behind her hazel eyes. He can sense her tension as well, she is wound just as tightly as he is, she needs this just as much as he does.

“Alright,” Kylo says as he reignites his lightsaber. The crackling red blade twirling in a slow circle by his side. “I won’t go easy on you, scavenger.” He practically whispers the last word, but it is easily heard in the quiet of the early morning that surrounds them.

“I wouldn’t expect you too.”

Rey’s smile fades. Her face falls into one of deep concentration before she charges Kylo, coming at him with a hard downward strike. Kylo’s blade meets Rey’s and he pushes back. Rey twirls, the bottoms of her shoes sliding on the stone floor of the balcony, but she does not lose her balance.

Kylo swings at her from the right, Rey parries his attack and quickly strikes back. Kylo arches his back and dodges, but her riposte comes so close to cutting him in half that it singes the hem of his tunic. The smell of burned fabric fills his nose and he grins fully.

Neither of them hold back. They lunge and strike and dodge and parry with all of the power they contain. Their screams and the violent humming and clashing of their blades slices through the quiet of the morning.

Rey’s back is to the sun which is now peeking fully over the mountains in the distance washing the scene in warm oranges and pinks. Rey is a silhouette against the golden light, it looks like she is glowing. Perhaps she is, Kylo concedes. She’s always radiated light in a way that confounds and engrosses him.

After some time, they find themselves in a very familiar blade-lock. Kylo looms over Rey. His back is to the sun now and he wonders what she sees, a shadow? A specter? Their blades scream and tremble between them, the red and blue plasma clashing, spitting angrily. Their faces are so close, Kylo can feel Rey’s breath hitting him, warm puffs in the cool morning air.

Rey’s eyes are intense, her mouth in a grimace as she pushes back against his blade. Kylo doesn’t think she’s ever looked so lovely. Neither of them speak, there is no need for communication. Their blades switch off simultaneously, but neither of them back away. They stand there in the silence, bathed in the glow of the rising sun, just a breath apart.

They both look angry, but they’re not. All of their anger was released with the clash of their blades. Their blood is hot, but not from rage. Kylo breathes heavily as he stares at Rey, her eyes as dark and intense as his own, neither of them blinking. When they meet each other, they do not lean in, they do not fall, they _crash_ into one another.

Kylo presses his lips into Rey’s, hard and fast. He grasps at the nape of her neck and her lower back, her hands are fisted in the black fabric of his tunic. They pull at each other, trying to close whatever distance remains between them, both trying to melt into the other.

They pull away, only to catch their breath. Kylo can see flecks of gold in Rey’s eyes, they shine in the warm, rising sunlight, he wants to memorize their placement, wants to count the freckles that dust her nose and the apples of her cheeks – gifts from the sun of Jakku.

A warmth rises in Kylo that has nothing to do with the slow dawn spreading over the city. He’d thought he’d felt contentment when she rested her head against him in the dark secret of the _Falcon_ ’s hold. He’d thought the galaxy had turned on it’s head when she touched his hand impossibly across time and space and logic. Those events pale in comparison to _this_.

When Kylo kisses her again, he tilts his head, his lips slanting against hers, and it makes all the difference. It is easier without their noses competing for space, bumping up against each other, his own being the worse offender. The bond between them hums with serenity. It glows golden and warm.

One of Rey’s arms wraps around him, the other flies up to his head, her fingers twining in his hair. He wonders for a moment why she would want to do this with him, why she would allow it, but he banishes the thought. He won’t even allow himself to ruin this.

After several long and wonderful minutes Rey pulls away and it’s clear that it is not just to catch her breath. Kylo wonders if he looks as wounded and empty as the action makes him feel.

“We really do need to come up with some kind of plan.” Rey says, her eyes downcast.

Kylo sighs. He wants to argue, wants to continue what they were doing, maybe forever, but he looks up and sees the Death Star in the sky, the morning light making it look like a ghost or a shadow. He grabs one of Rey’s hands and places a soft kiss against her fingers. She blushes and he very nearly smiles.

“Alright,” He mumbles against her knuckles. “After you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well uh oh! Looks like the gang's been spotted on Alderaan and Darth Dad intends to bring his boy home sooner rather than later! On an unrelated note, the kids kissed! 💕💖 Now, this might be a little too 'inside baseball' for everyone, but I really debated, with myself, over whether or not I should put the first kiss here or if it was too soon... but I like literally can't help myself and my sister yelled at me when I suggested pulling it, so here it is! 
> 
> Also, I've been called back to work, so updates won't be coming as frequently than they have been. Sorry! I do intend to post at least once a week, but hopefully more often.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone for the comments and kudos, they mean more than you know - I love hearing from you all so much, you're the best! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	6. Enter Lord Vader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are the two of you Jedi?”
> 
> “No,” Kylo means to growl the word, but it comes out more of an irritated grumble than anything, his fire has been thoroughly dulled, at least for the moment. His fears about who he’s been and wat he might have done in another lifetime have clouded his thoughts. 
> 
> “I am,” Rey says proudly. 
> 
> “Luke,” Kylo begins. Maybe it’s time. “There’s something I should tell you about your father…”
> 
> \---
> 
> Luke and Rey vibe over a shared love, Vader decides it's time for his son to come home from his extended slumber party, and Kylo learns why you should never meet your heroes.

Rey is talking and Kylo is sure that what she is saying is very important, they are all in a great deal of danger, after all, but he’s not quite listening. His attention is focused solely on watching her face, her mouth being a particular point of interest. He had kissed her, and, impossibly, she had let him. Even more impossibly, she had kissed him back, had wanted to kiss him. The corners of his mouth twitch upward at the thought of it, at the idea that they might do that again.

“Ben,” Rey say, her voice slightly raised. Her brows are furrowed, but she is also smiling. “Are you even listening to me?”

A service droid sets a large silver tray on the table in front of them and lifts the lid. Plates of fresh cut fruit, salted meats and steamy rolls are revealed to them. Kylo and Rey had taken up residence in the palace’s library with the intention of forming a solid plan, however, after hearing Rey’s stomach growling loudly, Kylo had taken it upon himself to order their breakfast. Rey’s eyes light up at the sight and Kylo nearly smiles fully.

“Of course I am.” He says with a half smirk as the service droid hands them each a plate. Kylo sips his caf slowly as he watches Rey tuck into the feast spread before her.

“Well, as I was saying,” Rey says with a tone that tells Kylo she does not believe him for a second. “I think the first thing we need to do is get Han and Chewie on board, we need the _Falcon_ , and them, of course.”

“That may be easier said than done.” Kylo says with a frown, remembering his earlier conversation with Han and the Wookiee. “They’re actually quite angry with us, or, rather, me in particular.” Rey’s eyebrows raise at that. “I think they actually threatened my life.” He adds plainly.

“Really?” Rey’s face and voice are pure shock. “What happened?” Kylo wonders if what she meant to say was ‘what did you do’, but he pushes the thought away.

“Well, they’re rather unhappy with their new statuses as wanted men, apparently.” Kylo says with a slight shrug as he tosses a piece of fruit into his mouth. It is wonderfully sweet and juicy and he wonders when the last time he enjoyed something he was eating was. “There was something about my _owing_ them as well.”

“Well, maybe _I_ should talk with them, then.” Rey suggests as she rips open a roll and breathes the scent of it in deeply, a wide smile spreading across her face. Kylo wonders if they have food like this on the Resistance base – if they have a base at all. He doubts it. He would make sure Rey had anything she wanted if only… “I think Han would listen to me.” Rey says mischievously. Kylo glowers at her. “What?”

“I think getting everyone to leave with us is the least of our concerns, honestly.” Kylo says, turning the topic of the conversation away from Han Solo’s interest in Rey.

“What do you mean?” Rey asks as she spreads a dollop of butter on her roll.

“I’m not even quite sure if my mo – she’s on the Death Star right now.”

“What makes you think that?” Rey’s words are muffled as she chews a bit of roll.

“Well,” Kylo sighs as he combs one hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. “I – She never spoke much about what happened on the Death Star, but I know that she was… tortured by Vader.”

Kylo is staring at his hands intently. He only knows about this because of conversations he’d overheard as a child. Sometimes when he was young, he would wake up to the sound of his mother crying. Many times, whenever this would happen and her husband was gone, he would go to her. She would never tell him what was wrong, simply hold him and quietly cry to herself. Once when Han _was_ around, a very young Ben Solo had sat outside of their door and listened. His mother had cried about Vader, about the droid, about Alderaan. The memory alone makes Kylo queasy now for multiple reasons.

“And they blew up Alderaan when she wouldn’t give them the location of the Rebel base.” Kylo explains without looking at Rey, though he can see that she has stopped eating to focus on him fully. “All of that should have happened by now, so unless she has given them the location this time,” _Impossible_ , Kylo thinks to himself. “I can see no other reason for this planet still being here.”

“Where could Leia be, then?”

“Are you talking about the princess?” Luke asks pulling out a chair beside Rey and joining them, uninvited.

Kylo nearly jumps at the sound of his uncle voice and scowls at him. Luke, for his part, must be used to this aspect of Kylo’s personality because he ignores the venomous look completely. Instead, he grabs a plate from the tray and begins piling it high with fruit, fully ignoring the meat and rolls.

“Oh, I – um…” Rey looks at Kylo helplessly. “Yes, we are.” Rey confesses and Kylo sighs.

“I wish there was something we can do to help her.” Luke says with a somber frown. “It’s just awful…”

“Well, we were actually trying to think of some way to help her.” Rey says looking over at Kylo whose lips are pressed into a tight line. Luke’s eyes fly wide with excitement.

“Really?” He asks, enthusiastically popping a piece of fruit into his mouth and chewing happily. “Well, whatever it is, I’m in.”

Rey smiles, seeming almost pleasantly surprised. Kylo focuses his attention on a strip of dried, salted meat, tearing at it. He knows that, logically, he should be pleased as well, they had to get Luke on board, but he can’t help but wish that he and Rey were alone again.

“This fruit is amazing,” Luke says smiling through his mouthful of fruit slices. “We never had anything like this on Tatooine.”

“Or on Jakku, either.” Rey says with a sunny smile. She hands Luke a slice of fruit with a thick purple rind and soft, orange-yellow flesh. “Here, try this.”

“That’s amazing!” Luke says taking a bite of the fruit.

The two children of the desert eat their fruit in peaceable silence for a moment. Slowly, Kylo notices Luke’s face change. His enthusiastic enjoyment of the new, sweet luxury giving way to something more quiet, confused, and sullen. Rey is the first to speak.

“Luke, is everything alright?”

“I -” He begins. He looks up, his blue eyes flicking between Rey and Kylo quickly before settling on his fingers which are currently tapping nervously on the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you both told me back in Old Ben’s house… about my father.”

Kylo and Rey look at each other now with wide eyes, their previous question fresh on their minds again now. When and how did Luke learn that Vader was his father? Rey opens her mouth to say something, but Luke continues before she gets the chance to speak.

“About how he was a Jedi.” Luke chews on the inside of his lip for a moment. “I guess I just don’t know what that means, exactly.”

“The Jedi – well, the order was a religion, though, I’ll be honest, I don’t know too much about that.” Rey starts. Kylo watches her with rapt attention, more than a little curious as to what she thinks she knows about the Jedi order of this time or their own. “But, to me, I guess, a Jedi is someone who uses to Force to help people, to protect them.” She smiles and Kylo frowns deeply.

Her words are like an icy dagger through his heart. Help people, protect them… he knows that she is picturing his uncle’s stunt on Crait, the old Jedi making a fool of Kylo. Had she been there, behind the thick, metal barrier, watching him? Had she seen him spitting and snarling, out of his mind with anger and fear and pain? With dawning horror, he wonders if she had heard his words.

_I’ll destroy you, and her, and all of it._

He’d threatened to destroy her. He’d told his men ‘No quarter. No prisoners.’, and he had meant it. What if his uncle hadn’t been there? What if Kylo and the First Order had stormed the fortress on Crait? What if he had seen her there, the wounds of the throne room so fresh on his mind? What would he have done? These questions and the answers he doesn’t have hurt worse than Rey’s words ever could.

“Are the two of you Jedi?”

“No,” Kylo means to growl the word, but it comes out more of an irritated grumble than anything. His fears about who he’s been and what he might have done in another lifetime have dulled his temper, at least for the moment.

“I am,” Rey says proudly.

“Luke,” Kylo begins. Maybe it’s time. “There’s something I should tell you about your father…”

Luke looks at him expectantly, his blue eyes shining with anticipation and what might be worry. Kylo opens his mouth, meaning to tell his uncle the truth that was kept from him, from the both of them, but he is interrupted by a loud siren, an alarm blaring through the palace.

Rey and Kylo and Luke are silent and still for a moment, they just stare at each other and listen to the alarm. They can hear shouting coming from somewhere far away. Kylo hears the tell-tale screaming of a TIE and dashes over to one of the large windows in the library, Rey and Luke on his heels.

A white tri-winged space craft is landing on the grounds surrounding the castle, a squadron of TIE fighters zoom around the palace, many engaged in dogfights with the Alderaanian fighters scrambled to protect the castle. Alderaanian guards begin shooting at the imperial shuttle as the entry ramp lowers. Before Kylo can see who emerges, he whips around to face Rey and Luke.

“Find Han and Chewie, we’ve got to get out of here!”

* * *

Vader is pounding down the ramp of his shuttle the moment it lands, his lightsaber at the ready by his side. His son is here, he knows this, the Force is screaming it at him. Those who have kept his son from him are also here. A righteous anger fills him, he focuses it, he uses it to fuel himself as the Alderaanian soldiers begin firing at him.

He swings his blade in front of him with one hand, deflecting blaster bolts, reflecting them back to their original owners. Vader lifts his off hand and three soldiers dressed in pale blue shirts and black vests rise into the air, their arms and legs flailing. He throws them down to the ground where they crumple, lifeless.

The fear surrounding him spikes as Vader and his squadron of white plastoid-composite armored stormtroopers, the 501st Legion, breach the palace doors and begin marching its halls. The Alderaanian security force is hardly a barrier, they meet little resistance as they delve further into the castle.

Vader sends the stormtroopers ahead. They have all been thoroughly briefed on the purpose of this mission to capture the palace’s inhabitants, not kill. They are well aware of the severe… consequences that should befall anyone who breaks these orders.

Vader reaches out with the Force, reaches out to it. He lets it guide his footfall, he follows where it leads him, trusting that it will take him to his son. He feels that strange presence in the Force again, the one he’d felt on the ship fleeing Tatooine all those days ago. It is much closer now but it feels just as dissonant, just as out of place, just as wrong as it had before.

Vader stops at the mouth of a hallway lined with tall stained-glass windows. Two figures of interest, both very strong with the Force, stand at the other end of the hall surrounded by a handful of stormtroopers. The first, Vader notices, is a tall, broad man, dressed all in black. He wields a lightsaber of peculiar design which crackles with instability. Vader’s vison is already tinted red by the lenses of his mask, but he assumes that the man’s blade is a bright crimson from the way the Dark Side swirls around him. He does not embrace it fully, Vader notices, there is Light there too, conflict.

The second figure is younger, a teenager, a boy. Vader only need see his face for a moment and he knows – this is his son. Vader stops for a moment and just looks at the boy. His red-stained vision ruins the effect a bit, keeps him from truly taking in the sight of his son. Still, he can see that his son’s hair is light, blond as Vader’s had once been. Would it turn dark in time? A lightsaber hangs from the boy’s hip and in an instant Vader recognizes it as the one he had made and used in a time long ago – where had the boy gotten it?

Vader begins striding purposefully toward the two, his boots slamming on the white stone floors. The ‘dark man’ freezes the blaster bolt of the last trooper standing and fells the soldier with one swing of his blade. He sends the frozen bolt off into one of the nearby windows, glass falls like rain onto the floor. He looks up and sees Vader, his eyes going wide. Vader can feel recognition through the Force, fear, anger and, bizarrely, excitement.

“Luke,” The ‘dark man’ shouts, his eyes not leaving Vader’s encroaching form. _Ah_ , Vader thinks, _there it is, confirmation_. “Go, now! Find Rey.”

“But Ben,” The boy, Vader’s son, _Luke_ says, his voice wavering as he glances at Vader.

“I’ll meet up with you in a bit.” The ‘dark man’ lies. Vader can sense the man knows it is a lie as well.

“Luke,” Vader says. His deep, mechanically enhanced voice echoing off of the stone walls of the long hallway. His son looks up at him, fear as plain in his eyes as it is in the Force. He takes a step backward but makes no other move.

“Go, _now_ , Luke.” The ‘dark man’ growls. He shoots out one hand and Vader’s son slides backwards, propelled by the Force, into an adjoining hallway. With a flick of the man’s wrist the door in the mouth of the hallway swings shut, barring the boy from returning.

Vader’s rage peaks. He gathers the darkness around him as he draws closer to the man who stands his ground, his foot stance is wide, defensive. The man points his blade at Vader and looks directly down it as the Sith Lord approaches. Vader can sense the man’s rising anticipation.

Vader stops short as the man projects one simple, deeply confusing word out into the Force, surely by accident.

_Grandfather._

* * *

_Grandfather_.

Kylo’s blood buzzes with electricity, wild and uncontrollable. The muscles under his left eye twitch. The Dark Side courses through him like adrenaline. He tightens his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber as he watches his grandfather stride towards him, black cape billowing behind him like a living shadow.

The Force hums with a dark, foreboding energy. The air around him grows cold like the icy winds of Illum on Starkiller Base – but that was not tainted with such palpable evil. Kylo has felt darkness like this only once before in the presence of Snoke, but even that was nothing compared to what he feels now. The frigid shadow seeps deep down into his bones and claws at every part of him.

One thing Kylo had never considered before was the sheer size of the Sith Lord. Vader is _huge_. Tall and broad and, as Kylo knows, half machine. An imposing figure who surely inspires fear in every being unlucky enough to cross his path, sending even seasoned soldiers running at the mere sight of him. Kylo is not running now. He digs his heels into the cold stone floor below him. When it comes to fight or flight, Kylo’s body has almost _always_ screamed fight.

“The man I’ve heard so much about.” Vader intones, holding his lightsaber in one hand to his side. The rich, deeply modulated voice sends a shiver through Kylo’s body and he’s not sure if it is from fear or something else.

Kylo says nothing, just focuses on his breathing, the in and out of air. He focuses on his connection to the Force, on watching Vader’s every move over the snarling blade of his lightsaber. Vader steps slowly over the shards of colorful stained glass which shatter further, the sound filling the tense silence.

“Who is your master?” Vader asks as he approaches further. His steps are slow, patient.

“I have no master.” Kylo answers lowly.

“Why did you take the Skywalker boy?”

Kylo could swear his heart stops for a moment. Vader knows, he knows that Luke is his son and now Kylo is the only thing standing between them. He wonders morbidly why Vader has not already struck him down. He chooses deliberately not to answer Vader’s question, there’s no way to answer it honestly without revealing too much and Vader can sense lies.

 _Rey_. He projects over the bond and it feels like a cry.

 _Ben, what’s wrong?_ She clearly senses his swirling emotions.

_Vader’s here._

_What?!_

_Get Luke and Han and Chewbacca to the ship. Get them out of here._ He pleads. _Please._

 _Ben, no!_ She cries but Kylo’s attention is elsewhere.

Vader is nearly in front of him now, his blade swings upward at Kylo who meets it with his own. Kylo had, foolishly, not anticipated the strength behind the strike and stumbles backward. He quickly rights himself and ducks to avoid a second blow. Vader’s blade lands pointing into the floor, scarring the white stone, the hot red plasma only a breath away from Kylo.

Kylo jumps back, propelling himself with the Force, needing to put space between himself and his grandfather. Vader rounds on Kylo again, his blade swinging in a long, diagonal arc across his body. Vader’s blade is too far away to reach Kylo, but he reels back anyway.

The fury and rage that emanates off of the Sith Lord is so tangible, it is almost like another weapon in and of itself. It pounds against Kylo, trying to break his shields apart, trying to syphon his fear – Kylo does feel the fear inside of him, threatening to bubble and burst out of control, but he tamps down on it with his own anger and with the darkness that roils inside of him.

Kylo, never liking to be kept on the defensive, steps forward and swings his blade, aiming for his grandfather’s leg. Kylo knows now, for a fact, that he is _not_ as strong as Darth Vader. Even if he was trying to kill the Sith Lord, he is sure that he couldn’t, but Vader has to live either way, his story’s not over yet. Kylo’s only hope of surviving is to disarm his grandfather, possibly literally.

Kylo’s boldness proves to be a mistake. Vader block’s Kylo’s volatile blade with his own and then swings up, intent on slicing Kylo in half up the middle. Kylo manages to dodge out of the way, but only just barely, and his grandfather’s blade slices a long, shallow mark up Kylo’s left arm.

Kylo wrenches himself away from Vader’s reach and hisses in pain. The black fabric of his sleeve is torn and singed revealing the cauterized wound. Kylo pounds on it with the hilt of his saber and draws power from the pain, lets it fuel him as he swings again at his grandfather.

Vader blocks every blow with an almost lazy ease. He wields his saber in just one hand. It looks like he doesn’t have to think, it looks like he isn’t even trying at all. He slowly advances on Kylo who has been pushed onto the back foot yet again. Kylo is being pushed further and further down towards the wrong end of the hallway, he needs to turn this fight around, but it’s all he can do just to defend himself, to keep himself alive.

Vader swings wide and manages to cut into Kylo’s left shoulder before Kylo is able to throw the red plasma blade off with his own. Vader continues to push Kylo back down the hall and swings low, slicing his blade along Kylo’s right thigh, cutting deeply, leaving Kylo limping along the synthstone corridor. The air smells of death and burnt flesh, colorful glass crunches and shatters under their feet as they move.

Vader raises his lightsaber over his head and swings down hard. Kylo’s blade meets his, Vader’s blade slides down until it meets the cross-guard of Kylo’s saber. The two red sabers shriek against each other angrily. Vader pushes into Kylo, but Kylo calls on the Force to ground him and stands firm against the Sith Lord. Kylo is so close to Vader right now that he can see his own reflection in the red-tinted lenses of Vader’s mask, he can see through the lenses, he can see the eyes of his grandfather, yellow and burning with rage and hatred.

Kylo feels panic on Rey’s side of the bond and he reaches out to her desperately. He can feel her there, vaguely, but it’s wrong somehow.

 _Rey? Rey!_ He calls out to no response.

The commlink on Vader’s belt chirps and momentarily distracts both of them. Kylo recovers first and uses the opportunity to strike at his grandfather but suddenly finds himself unable to move. His arms snap down on his sides and his body rises in the air quickly until he slams into the ceiling above.

Vader, his offhand held out, disengages his lightsaber and clips it to his belt. He unclips his commlink and holds it up to his mask. Kylo struggles against the tight coils of the Force, but it’s no use, he can’t move a muscle.

“Lord Vader,” A staticky voice rings through the comm in Vader’s hand. “The pilot and his crew are in our custody. We have not managed to capture the Queen and her husband, but we have squads roaming the grounds now. They will not escape.”

New rage and fear courses through Kylo, he tries to thrash, tries to scream. He draws on all of his strength to break out of Vader’s grasp. He only finds that the grip around his throat tightens, blocking his airflow. He can still breathe, but just barely.

“Excellent. Load the prisoners onto a transport. Set a course for the battle station.”

The battle station – The Death Star. Panic takes hold of Kylo’s withered heart, wrapping it in its icy fingers and squeezing tight.

Vader clips the commlink back onto his belt and slowly strides over to where Kylo’s lightsaber lies on the ground. He picks up the hilt and inspects it leisurely before clipping it to his belt beside his own saber.

With a flick of Vader’s wrist, Kylo flies backward down the hallway and into the far wall. He’s not sure if his head hits the wall or if Vader puts him in a Force induced sleep, but the world flashes to black and there is nothing.

***

Kylo wakes to burning pain coursing through his body, it curls through his limbs like the blood in his veins. He screams and flails against it. There is a taser in his side, filling him with white, hot electric agony. He tries to lash out, attack whomever is assaulting him, but he finds that his hands are locked in binders behind his back.

After an agonizingly long time, the pain stops and Kylo can open his eyes. He is in a shuttle surrounded by stormtroopers, two of them grab hold of his arms and begin leading him down the transport’s ramp. Kylo tries to wrench his arms away, but it only earns him another zap from the taser.

Kylo is led out into a large hangar. It is similar to a hangar on a First Order ship, but different as well. It has the same clean lines, the same black and white color scheme, but the design has slight differences, he notices. The hangar is full of troopers, too many to take out, especially unarmed. He also notices a very familiar ship in process of landing on the other side of the hangar – the _Millennium Falcon_. Well, they have their getaway ship, at least.

 _This is a good thing_. Kylo thinks, trying to convince himself. He needed to get everyone to the Death Star and here they were. The situation was… less than ideal, but it was workable. Things would be back to more or less the same once he was taken to the detention level. The others must already be down there. He can feel Rey nearby, but it’s impossible to tell where – the battle station is just so massive.

The troopers on either side tug on Kylo’s arms roughly, pulling him along a triangular corridor towards a lift. He scans his mind, searching for the stories he’s heard more times than he can count. He knows about the trash compactor, obviously, his fa – Han Solo never stopped complaining about that move, and he knows that they’re almost crushed, but he can’t remember how they got out – a fairly important detail.

When they arrive on the detention level, Kylo notices that it is different than he’d always imagined it. There is a small control center of sorts just outside of the lift bay. A handful of officers man the controls and a few black-helmeted soldiers guard the area. There are cameras on the ceiling.

“That the last one?” An officer asks, standing, his hands hidden behind his back.

“Yes, sir.” The trooper to Kylo’s right answers

“Good, this one goes in…” The officer picks up the data pad in front of him and studies it momentarily. “Cell 2186.”

Kylo allows himself to be ushered down the hexagonal hallway of cells, there is red light emanating from the grated flooring below. One of the troopers pushes a code into a panel on the wall outside of a cell and the door opens with a soft _whoosh_.

Kylo is thrust into the cell. He stumbles, but keeps his balance, or, he does until one of the troopers slams the butt of their blaster into his stomach causing him to double over.

“Rebel scum.” The trooper says before the door closes and locks with a pneumatic hiss. Kylo almost laughs at the irony as he releases the binders from around his wrists with the Force.

The cell is quite plain, smooth black walls and an uncomfortable looking slab-like bench built into the back wall. It’s not much, but what else can he expect as a prisoner?

Kylo reaches out in the Force, searching for Rey’s familiar signature, surely, she’s here too, but he finds something else. There’s another signature here, right across the hallway from him. It’s a presence he would know anywhere, he knows it like breathing. For just a moment, he lets the warm familiarity of the signature wash over him and closes his eyes.

“Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love family reunions! Though, I think Kylo's reunion with his grandpa went rather less well than he'd always hoped - poor guy! I'm sure seeing his mom again will go a lot better! Vader's got his boy and we're all going to the Death Star! What a fun family vacation!
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for your kind comments and kudos, they always brighten my day - I love hearing from everyone, so thanks again! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I've been so hyped to post it for a while! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	7. Interrogator/ Interrogated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is your name?” Vader asks, and it is strange because his voice sounds fuzzy now too.
> 
> “Kylo Ren.” Kylo answers slowly.
> 
> With what is left of his mind, he knows that he will have to pick and choose his answers carefully. Vader can sense lies, so there is no use in doing that. Snoke had been much the same, so Kylo is well versed in how to answer around a question.
> 
> “That is a lie.”
> 
> \---
> 
> Luke and Vader do a little bit of father-son bonding while Kylo plays an intense game of '20 Questions' with his grandfather.
> 
>  **TW: There are descriptions of torture in the part of this chapter in Kylo's POV starting at "With another flick of his wrist Vader throws Kylo into the metal slab" and lasting basically the rest of that part. Please read only if you feel comfortable!** 💕💖

Luke Skywalker is not sure what to expect from an Imperial prison cell, or any prison cell at all for that matter. He’s never been in a prison before – he’s never done anything _worth_ being thrown in a prison before.

He still can’t believe that he’s found himself on a mission with Jedi and rebels, delivering a message from a princess, if he’s honest. It’s more adventure than a simple moisture farmer from Tatooine knows to dream of.

He is scared as the stormtroopers lead him away from his friends, scared of what’s to come, though he tries not to think about that too hard, but his father was a Jedi – Ben and Rey had told him so – and Luke is sure that he was brave. So, Luke will be brave and hopes that his father would have been proud of him.

Luke’s not sure what he should expect, but he can imagine, he’s always been very good at that. He imagines a dark, dank cell with maybe only a cot to sleep on. He imagines that they will only feed him tasteless gruel, if they feed him anything at all. He imagines they will torture him for information he doesn’t have and it sends a cold shiver down his spine.

He doesn’t know what he should expect, still, he is surprised when he finds himself being left in a room that looks decidedly nothing like a prison cell at all. Actually, it looks far more like a bedroom, and a very nice bedroom at that.

A large, soft looking bed with dark sheets sits directly across from the door, the frame of it is built into the floor and wall behind it, a smooth, black material which blends seamlessly with its surroundings. A small table and two chairs sit in one corner and a dresser flanked by two comfortable looking armchairs line the opposite wall.

Luke is so lost taking in his new surroundings that he hardly notices the troopers have let him go and have removed the binders from his wrists. It is only when he hears the door open behind him that he turns to see them leaving.

“Wait!” He calls after the troopers who make no indication that they have heard him at all. “Aren’t I a prisoner?” The door closes behind them with a soft _whoosh_ and Luke is alone.

Luke approaches the door and finds that it is locked, so maybe this is a prison cell and the Empire just treats their prisoners really well?

There’s another door in the wall across from the dresser and Luke finds that it leads to a private, attached ‘fresher – one with a bathtub and a _real_ water shower. Luke smiles widely at the sight. He’s never had a bath before or used anything other than a sonic to wash himself, anything else would have been a waste of water, and he is very tempted to run himself a bath right away, but then his eyes flick back over to the locked door and thinks better of it.

There’s a small plate of fruit on the table and Luke sees the purple fruit Rey had given him to try back on Alderaan. The fruit had been delicious, sweet and juicy with just a hint of tartness, but staring at it now makes Luke feels nauseous. Where is Rey? Is she safe? Is she alright? What about Han and Chewie? What about Ben? He’d still been passed out when Luke and the others had been carted off of the transport. Luke feels lightheaded at the thought of his new friends and sits down on the edge of the bed, which _is_ very soft.

There is a small pile of neatly folded clothes beside him. Luke picks up what seems to be a top. It’s black, of course, and resembles the uniform he’s seen some of the people around the space station wearing. He sets it down and crawls up the bed, pressing his back against the cool durasteel headrest, drawing his knees up into his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Tears sting Luke’s eyes and it feels like his head is spinning as the events of the past few days catch up with him. His aunt and uncle are dead, his home is gone. He and his new friends have been captured by the Empire and he has no idea where they are.

Luke wipes the tears from his cheeks with the tan sleeve of his roughspun tunic as he hears the door open. The air grows cold, like all of the warmth has been sucked out of the room and Luke shivers. He looks up and sees a tall figure, dressed all in black, their face covered in a terrifying black mask. Luke recognizes this figure, he’d seen him back in the palace on Alderaan before Ben had pushed him away. The figure had known Luke’s name.

“Are you injured? Have you been harmed?” The figure asks. Luke is taken aback by the man’s, he assumes it’s a man, at least, voice just as he had been back in the palace. His voice is deep and seems to be almost mechanically enhanced.

“Wh – what?” Luke asks, finding his voice. He’s a prisoner, isn’t he? Why should they care if he’s been injured?

“Have you been harmed?” The masked man repeats and breathes deeply filling the room with a bone-chilling rasp.

“No.” Luke says, shaking his head, his blond hair bobbing along with the movement.

“Are you… hungry?” The masked figure asks. Luke scrunches up his face, confused by the line of questioning. Was this level of concern for your prisoner’s welfare a normal tactic of interrogation?

“N-No, I’m alright.” Luke says. “Um, thank you.” He adds awkwardly.

“The clothing,” The man asks, gesturing one gloved hand towards the uniform piled at the end of the bed. “Does it not fit?”

“I don’t – I haven’t tried it on.” Luke says and it sounds like a question.

“A different size can be gathered if needed.” The masked man explains, succeeding in confusion Luke further.

“What’s going on?” Luke asks, straightening his back, calling on all of the confidence and bravery he possesses.

“Luke,” The man begins slowly. Luke shivers at the sound of his name. “What do you know about your father?” The masked figure turns and begins to pace slowly in front of the door.

“What? Why?” Luke asks, feeling incredulous.

What was it with everyone and his father these days? First, Old Ben had wanted to give him a lightsaber which had belonged to his father, then Ben and Rey were asking about him, and now this masked man? Luke was starting to grow frustrated, because the truth was, he knew very little about his father and everyone else seemed to know a whole lot more than he did.

The mask turns to face Luke again, tilting somewhat, in what almost looks like curiosity, as though the man behind it is studying Luke. The man does not answer Luke’s questions, just waits quietly for the answer to his own question, or as quietly as his loud, mechanical breathing will allow.

“I don’t know! Not much.” Luke answers with a huff. This does not seem to be a sufficient answer as the masked man simply continues to stare.

Luke is still getting used to sensing people through the Force. Ever since Rey showed him how to do it, he’s not been able to turn it off, if it’s something can be turned off at all. He senses the man under the mask. The energy that surrounds him is dark, it’s cold and angry and Luke shivers as he feels it brush against him.

“His name was Anakin Skywalker. He was a Jedi, apparently, and he’s dead. That’s all I know.”

“He’s dead?” The masked man stops and turns to face Luke fully again. Luke can feel his anger spike and it scares him, has he done something wrong? “Who told you this?”

“My aunt and uncle.” Luke says, his voice sounding smaller than he intends it to. “That’s all they really told me about him, they never even mentioned he was a Jedi…”

“Your _aunt_ and _uncle_ ,” The man says and it sounds like he nearly spits the words, he says them with so much malice. “Lied to you, your father is alive.”

“What?!” Luke nearly screams, shooting forward slightly, balancing himself on his hands.

“I am your father.”

Luke feels like time stops. His body goes completely still as he takes in the visage of the masked figure, the figure that claims to be Anakin Skywalker, the figure that claims to be his _father_. He’s not sure if the man says anything after this, Luke can’t even hear the man’s deep, rasping breath over the thundering of his heart in his ears.

“What… How… That’s not…” Luke stammers. He can’t form a full sentence. He can’t even _think_ in full sentences right now.

“Search your feelings, you know it to be true.” The man says.

Luke is not exactly sure how he is supposed to _search his feelings_ , but something inside of him tells him that it is true, that the man’s words, his father’s words, are not lies.

“You were a Jedi?” Luke asks and it feels like a stupid question.

His father turns the face of his mask away for a moment and Luke thinks that he will not answer this question either.

“Once – A very long time ago.” His father answers finally. “Before I saw through the lies of the Jedi. They were war mongers, sought only power and control. They were evil and had to be destroyed.”

Luke’s brows furrow at that. He is confused, that is not how Rey had described the Jedi. She had said that they protected people, helped people – that didn’t sound evil. Rey, Luke knows for sure, is not evil. She has been nothing but kind since they met. None of this makes sense.

“Why am I here?”

“You are my son.” Luke’s father says, sounding more confused than anything. “Your training will begin tomorrow.” He says as he turns to leave.

“Training?” Luke calls after him. His father stops and turns back around slowly.

“I will train you to use the Force, it is very strong with you, my son.” Luke’s father pauses for a moment, perhaps considering his words.

“What do you want from me?”

“I would have you join me.” Luke’s father says taking a step towards Luke who backs away from the cold, dark presence almost instinctually. “We would be unstoppable. We could destroy the emperor, together, rule the galaxy as father and son.”

Luke inhales sharply. He stares at his father’s impassive mask, his mouth agape. Luke’s father turns to leave again but Luke’s heart starts to race as he remembers something he’d nearly forgotten.

“Where are my friends?”

“Your _captors_ are being dealt with.” Luke’s father answers coldly.

“They aren’t my _captors_! They’re my friends. Are they alright?” Luke struggles to control his breathing.

“They are not your friends.” Luke’s father says slowly, and Luke feels another cold wave of anger wash through the room. “They are murderers, traitors and thieves. They would have only used you against me.”

“That’s not true!” Luke cries, but his father has already left the room.

Luke runs to the door and he finds that it is still locked. He turns and slides down the wall, realization hitting him hard. He may be this man’s son, but he is also a prisoner.

* * *

It is a simple thing for Kylo to open the door to his cell with the Force. He can sense that the guards are far enough away that it is likely they would not notice his movement across the hall, even if he does move with a significant limp thanks to the wound he received during his fight with Vader, but Kylo dips into their minds, plants the suggestion to look the other way, to find distraction, anyway. The door across the hallway is much the same, it slides open with ease and Kylo slips in quickly, unnoticed, closing the door behind him.

He is glad for his foresight in closing the door, because the moment he sees _her_ , he is lost to the world around him. She is lounging on a hard-looking metal bench built into the wall dressed all in white which starkly contrasts their dark surroundings. She looks up at him and he wants to throw himself to onto his knees before her, grovel at her feet.

She is not the general or the princess, she is his mother and she is young and so very scared. She juts her chin out and holds herself well but Kylo can see the fear behind her warm, brown eyes, he can see it because he knows her. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. A million things race through his head, apologies, mostly, but his mouth refuses to form the words.

“Hello?” Leia asks, one eyebrow quirked, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“I – uh – princess.” He stammers, his mind growing soft under the pounding pressure of conflicting emotions running through him. “We should leave.”

“You think?” Leia says pushing herself up into a sitting position. “I assume you’re not here to interrogate me.” She eyes him speculatively, surely deducing from his appearance that he is not with the Empire. “Is this a rescue?”

“Yes,”

“Well, you’re right then, we should get going.” She stands and when Kylo makes no move to leave she crosses her arms and scowls at him. “Are we escaping or not?”

“I – it’s complicated.” Kylo says, shaking his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. “My, um, _friends_ , have been captured as well…” He trails off and sighs, rubbing one hand on his temple absentmindedly.

Leia eyes Kylo strangely, seemingly studying his face, narrowing her eyes in a way he knows all too well. She’s sizing him up, he knows. Her brown eyes lock onto his for a long moment and Kylo has to force himself to look away lest he lose himself – and he can’t afford to do that now.

“Do I know you?” She asks, suspiciously.

“No.” He answers a little too quickly.

He reaches out to the Force, searching once again for Rey, and, again he senses a completely different presence. It is cold and dark and empty, like a void looking to swallow anything and everything that crosses its path. Kylo whips around to face the door and with one hand on her shoulder, pushes his mother behind him.

“Stay behind me.” He commands.

“Excuse me!” Leia huffs as she wriggles out of his grasp. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on? Did my father send you, are you with the -”

Leia is cut off by the door to her cell sliding open to reveal Vader followed by a floating interrogation droid and two of the black-helmeted guards. Kylo cannot see his mother, but he does feel her physically shrink away from the masked countenance of her father. Kylo grabs her arm again, though not roughly.

“You again.” Vader intones slowly, clearly speaking to Kylo. “I had come to interrogate the princess, but perhaps I have another volunteer?”

“You stay away from her!” Kylo growls, hunching over slightly, steeling himself, ready to intervene should Vader make a move towards his mother.

Kylo pushes out with the Force, the two guards and the droid are sent careening into the far wall, but Vader stands solid, unmoved, unaffected. Vader raises his hand into the air and Kylo rises with it. With a small flick of the wrist Vader sends Kylo flying off to his left where he smashes hard into the cell’s metal wall, the wounds in his arm and thigh screaming angrily.

“Stop!” Leia cries.

Kylo groans as he attempts to lift himself from the ground, there is a sharp pain in his abdomen, a broken rib most like. Vader has approached the princess and Kylo is on his feet, charging his grandfather, a gesture he knows to be both foolish and futile, but he does so anyway.

“I said stay away from her -” Kylo’s voice catches in his throat as Vader freezes him in place.

“Take the princess to another cell, I will interrogate _him_ first.” He says addressing the guards who are only beginning to rise to their feet.

With another flick of his wrist Vader throws Kylo into the metal slab that serves as a bed and pins him back against the wall. His mother tries to rush to him, but the guards grab her arms and haul her away kicking and screaming.

The black, circular IT-O droid approaches Kylo now, its various appendages glinting violently in the dim light of the cell. Kylo knows what will be used first, the small syringe attached to the side filled with a thick, white liquid. It can cause terrible hallucinations and lowers the subject’s tolerance for pain, it can also be used to weaken a subjects mental shields, but Kylo is confident that he can protect his mind from his grandfather’s probing. The droid’s glowing red eye is impassive as the thin, silver needle sticks into Kylo’s right temple, injecting the serum directly into his brain.

Vader’s hold keeps Kylo steady as the serum is injected, but Kylo is not trying to fight it either way. He will need his strength for this. He has undergone torture at the hands of Snoke for years, or had, because Snoke is _dead._ Vader is sure to be ruthless, however. He has no care whether or not Kylo lives or dies, and certainly doesn’t care if he breaks him irreparably.

Pain shoots through Kylo’s system. Whether this is an effect of the serum or it is just the pain he had already been experiencing being amplified, he cannot say. Once the serum is fully injected, the droid hovers back and scans Kylo, surely searching for his weakest points. It takes an electrified rod and sticks it in Kylo’s side near where he believes his broken ribs are.

Painful electric volts surge through him. Still held in place by Vader, Kylo cannot scream, cannot cry out, cannot move one muscle. He can only wait for the pain to subside. It feels like it lasts for several minutes before he, finally, regains control of his body. The sensation of being in control feels new; his arms and legs are like jelly and he very nearly slumps to the floor, but he just manages to keep himself propped up against the back and side walls.

Kylo needs to think, come up with a plan – only, he can’t seem to think straight at all right now. The serum leaves him feeling strange. It is like his skull is stuffed full of cotton, his vision is fuzzy around the edges and everything is moving too slowly, or maybe he is moving too quickly and the world just can’t keep up.

“What is your name?” Vader asks, and it is strange because his voice sounds fuzzy now too.

“Kylo Ren.” Kylo answers slowly.

With what is left of his mind, he knows that he will have to pick and choose his answers carefully. Vader can sense lies, so there is no use in doing that. Snoke had been much the same, so Kylo is well versed in how to answer around a question, and he will answer Vader’s questions – for now. Until he comes up with a plan to escape, at least, he just needs to stall.

“That is a lie.”

Kylo shakes his head because it’s not, not really – but maybe, maybe Vader is sensing that this has not always been his name? Could the Force tell him that? Kylo tries to think back on his training, but it’s all blurry now.

“Ben,” He responds plainly, his voice slurs a little, his lips are numb.

“Just Ben?”

“Yes,”

“Another lie.” The Sith Lord says, unimpressed. With a wave of his hand the interrogation droid returns to deliver another painful shock to Kylo’s system. He can scream now and he does. “I suggest it be your last.”

“Solo,” Kylo grits out. The torture droid has backed off, but the pain remains.

Vader is silent for a moment and Kylo wonders, desperately what he is thinking. He feels Vader’s darkness lap at him, poking and prodding at his shields which, even in his state, he manages to keep strong.

“The same as the pilot.” Vader remarks.

Kylo does not respond. He shifts in his seat only slightly and pain lances through him, his broken ribs digging into him with a hateful vengeance, the wounds he received during his fight with Vader burning and threatening to tear open. He winces and nearly doubles over in pain.

“You are strong with the Force, Solo, but you were not instructed at the Jedi Temple.”

“Not the one on Coruscant.” Kylo agrees.

“There are no other Jedi Temples.”

“No there aren’t.” Kylo knows how to play this game. He just has to keep his answers vague and truthful.

“This weapon,” Vader unclips Kylo’s lightsaber from his belt and turns it around in his hand lazily, inspecting it. “Where did you come by it?”

 _Bantha-shit_! There was no getting around this one.

“I built it.”

“An interesting design, if crudely made.” Vader flicks on the saber, the red blade crackling and spitting angrily. “An old Sith design, I believe, yet you are no Sith.”

“No, I’m not.” Kylo agrees.

“And you have no master.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Who instructed you in the ways of the Force, then?”

“You wouldn’t know him.” Kylo says thinking hard about Snoke, keeping Luke as far from his mind as possible.

“His name?” Vader asks, flicking the lightsaber off.

“Snoke. He’s dead.” Kylo says before his grandfather can ask the obvious question. “I killed him.” Kylo says narrowing his eyes. He eyes the lightsaber on Vader’s belt and wonders if he could pull the same stunt off twice, but he knows he can’t. Vader doesn’t die here, he can’t – but so much else has already changed…

Vader says nothing to Kylo’s reveal of murdering his former master. Instead he turns and the cell door slides open. Kylo wonders for a delirious moment if the interrogation is over, but when a second droid enters carrying a silver tray, he knows that it had only been the foolish hope of a drug-addled mind.

Vader sets the hilt of Kylo’s blade down onto the tray and picks up the hilts of two other sabers. When Kylo sees the familiar silver and black hilts, his stomach drops.

“I must admit, the lightsabers I am far more interested in learning about are the two of these.”

Vader holds in each hand the lightsabers of Anakin Skywalker, one of them Luke’s and the other Rey’s. They are identical, of course, save for the strap of metal and leather wrapped around the middle of Rey’s binding in back together, hiding the seam where it was split.

“They are very similar, are they not? Some might say they are identical, one and the same.”

Kylo says nothing. The torture droid prods him in the side with its taser and his body is filled with a painful electric current. Kylo screams again, his throat tearing, his voice going ragged.

“Skywalker had one and the girl had the other, how is that?”

“Luke got his from Obi Wan, I don’t know how Rey got hers.” Kylo says, his breathing is labored. He can feel his grandfather’s anger through the Force at the mention of his old master’s name, it washes over him, cold and oppressive.

“I suppose I will just have to ask her myself.”

Rage, hot and potent replaces Kylo’s blood and he surges forward, a mistake, as the pain of the motion is incredible. He cries out and falls to his knees on the ground in front of his grandfather. Kylo cranes his neck to look up at the masked man. How many times has he been on his knees in front of that mask, in his time burned and twisted and mangled, how many times has he called on the man behind it? How many times has that man answered his calls? Kylo can feel his face contort with the pure hatred he feels for his grandfather, the pure contempt, the pure loathing.

“Why did you take Skywalker?” Vader asks as though he cannot feel Kylo’s hatred, or, more likely he simply doesn’t care.

“I did not take him.” Kylo says. It is true, Luke came with them willingly.

“Why did you bring him to the palace on Alderaan? Are you working with the Rebel Alliance?”

“It was not my intention to bring him there.” Kylo says, wondering if he should just stop answering all together. It’s hard to think, his thoughts are well and truly swimming now. He feels like he is underwater. “I am not working with...”

“Another lie.” Again, Kylo feels the shock of the droid’s electric prod in his side. He wonders if the voltage has been amped up because it feels so much more painful now, maybe that’s just an effect of the serum.

“Do you know the princess of Alderaan?”

Kylo stays silent and receives another painful shock from the interrogation droid, this time it chooses the fresh wound on his shoulder as it’s point of contact.

“Did you take Skywalker on her family’s orders?”

“No.”

“Why did you take Skywalker to the Organas?”

Kylo stares up at his grandfather, a harder thing to do now that his vision has blurred completely, whether from pure pain or the serum, he cannot say. He’s been broken before, by Snoke, many times. He’s been broken down and rebuilt, an agonizing process, but in this case useful. He refuses to tell Vader anything more, not willingly.

“I’ll _never_ tell you.” He spits at the floor at Vader’s feet, it shines red with blood in the dim lighting. Kylo realizes that he may be sentencing himself to death with these words, but if he’s thought this interrogation had a happy ending, he’s been deluding himself. There was only one way this could end, and he’d rather it happens on his own terms.

He reaches out for Rey, maybe for the last time. He can feel her on the battle station, her Force signature brushes against his warm and soft, easing his pain like a healing salve. He can feel his mother here too and his uncle and his father. Maybe this is the best end he could ask for.

 _Ben_? He hears her voice and it is a grace he can never deserve. He’s not worried about her. If there is anyone who can get his family off of this station, it’s Rey. He’s certain she can do anything. He just hopes she can forgive him for leaving her alone here.

_Rey, I-_

“Very well.” Vader says, reaching one hand out slowly towards Kylo, cutting off his thought.

He can feel Vader’s indomitable dark presence, his energy bashing at Kylo’s shields, trying to break them down. Simultaneously, the IT-O droid resumes its electric torture. Kylo tries to strengthen the barriers that guard his mind, but the pain is incredible. He wishes he could fall into blissful unconsciousness, but the serum doesn’t allow that. He twitches against the twin assaults, one physical, the other mental and he cracks.

He sees Luke, the young Luke lying at the foot of his landspeeder, he feels his own panic surge through him again. He sees himself hand Luke Anakin’s lightsaber.

_It was your fathers… from when he was a Jedi._

He sees an older Luke now, hair darkened by time, a youthful twinkle in the Jedi Master’s blue eyes. Mechanical fingers wiggle in the air.

_I lost my first lightsaber… Same way I lost this hand._

He sees the temple on Yavin IV, the old rebel base – No! He tries to wrench that memory away, but it’s no use. He tries to tuck it away in a safe and secret place as he had taught himself to do under Snoke’s tutelage, but it’s almost as if Vader knows exactly where to look. Maybe he knows where to look after years of hiding memories from his own master.

His mother looks up at him, because he is taller than her, he has been for most of his life. Her brown eyes hold unshed tears, decades old now. They stand in front of the stone likenesses of Breha and Bail Organa. Her face shines with old sorrow and adoration.

_I wish you could have met them._

He’s in a hut, it’s late at night. He looks over his shoulder and sees his master, his own uncle staring down at him, those same blue eyes wild with fear and intent, the green of his lightsaber is the only light in the room. He reaches out for his own saber which shines blue in the darkness before he pulls the ceiling down on the both of them.

_No, Ben!_

He is kneeling before Snoke, the old, wretched creature glowers down at him, his mangled face twisted with hatred and disappointment. Kylo feels the old shame surge through him like the electric fire in his veins that threatens to destroy him now.

 _I have given everything I have to you… to the Dark Side._ He hears his own voice, pitifully desperate for approval, for acknowledgement of his sacrifice.

 _When I found you, I saw what all masters live to see: raw, untamed power_. Snoke drawls, his deep, ragged voice both sharp and rough, like dragging a knife over rock. _And beyond that, something truly special – the potential of your bloodline. A new_ Vader.

Kylo tries to pull away, his grandfather has already seen too much. He tries to push him out, but the pain only becomes more intense and he screams, it sounds distant to his own ears.

He sees Vader’s mask now, but it is the mask that lives in his quarters, the one he had placed upon a pedestal of smooth, black obsidian, the one that, if he survives this and makes in back to his own time, he swears he will _destroy_. He is sitting in front of it in deference, in reverence.

 _Forgive me. I feel it again, the pull to the light._ Kylo’s voice is deep and modified by the mask he wears, the mask he has not yet destroyed. _Show me again the power of the darkness, and I will let nothing stand in our way. Show me, grandfather._

Vader pulls out of Kylo’s mind so violently it causes Kylo to slam his head backwards into the base of the bench. He’s not sure when the IT-O droid stopped its torture, but it doesn’t really matter. His body still twitches and convulses with lingering pain.

Vader takes a step back but Kylo hardly notices. The whole world is a blur to him now, just shadows and lights and sounds. His grandfather, the large black blob of darkness and pain and misery, considers his grandson.

“What was that?” Vader asks. Kylo can feel Vader’s anger surround him, he chokes on it. He coughs and he might be coughing up blood. “What did you show me?”

Kylo doesn’t answer, he can’t. He thinks that he might point out that he didn’t show Vader anything, that it was taken, but he can hardly be upset with that, given how many he’s done the exact same thing to.

“It’s true, then.” The Sith Lord muses and Kylo’s not sure what exactly he’s talking about. “But… How?”

Vader turns to sweep out of the room, his black cape billowing behind him, and Kylo is unconscious before the door closes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be completely honest, I'm not sure if Vader can probe minds like Kylo and Snoke are able to in the Sequel Trilogy. I think it's clear that he has some mind reading abilities with the way he pries information about Leia from Luke's mind on the DS-2 station, but it's unclear if that's just because of their bond or if it's an ability he possesses in general. Either way, I thought that this was more exciting/ cinematic than Darth Dad just asking Kyle a few questions that he wouldn't really answer, so it is what it is! Call it 'artistic license' or 'fanfic shenanigans', I'm good either way! 🤣
> 
> So! A lot of revelations happened in this chapter, many of which may throw a wrench into Kyle's whole 'keep the timeline in check' thing. Sorry, bud! Suffice it to say though, Grandpa Vader's got a lot to think about. I will be exploring other POVs (as evidenced by Luke's POV in this chapter) in the future, especially since Ben's gonna be out of commission for a little while, bless his heart. I do plan on the story to be told mostly from Kylo/ Ben and Vader POVs, but I think it will be interesting to get the POVs from Luke, Leia, Han and Rey in there every now and again, especially as the timeline goes really off the rails and the OT crew gets a larger role in the story. I hope you all don't mind the increased scope of POVs, ~~I'll try not to go overboard!~~ \- _So, that was a lie, she realizes 5 months later._
> 
> I do hope that the interrogation was not too intense for anyone. I don't think it is, personally, but the last thing I want to do is make anyone uncomfortable or upset!
> 
> Also, beginning with this chapter and extending on into the next few, many of the POV scenes will be taking place at the same time as others. I do hope that the timeline makes sense to everyone when everything is said and done!
> 
> As always, I love, love, love you all so much for your kind kudos and comments. I adore hearing from everyone so much. I hope that you've enjoyed this chapter, thanks so much for reading! 💕😊


	8. The One Where Han Doesn't Die on a Planet-Killing Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You guys have no idea how happy I am to see you.” Luke says to the group as Rey backs off, it is only then that he notices someone is missing.  
> “Wait, where’s Ben?”
> 
> The second the words leave Luke’s mouth he regrets them. Rey’s face falls hard, she looks like she’s in pain.
> 
> “He’s still… we need to help him, let’s go.” Rey says. She starts off towards the hallway Luke had just come from but Han grabs her arm and holds her back.
> 
> “No way, sister.” He says gruffly as Rey pulls her arm out of his grasp while glaring at him. “Trust me, getting one outta two out ain’t bad numbers. Every second we spend on this thing our chances of making off alive go down – and I ain’t looking to die on this crazy weapon or whatever it is.”
> 
> \---
> 
> Meanwhile, elsewhere on the Death Star... Rey tries to get things back on track, Han tests her last nerve, Luke gets a costume change, and Leia has a series of very confusing encounters.

Ben is still lost to unconsciousness when Rey, Han, Chewie and Luke are shuffled roughly off of the prisoner transport. Rey struggles against the binders restraining her wrists and against the captors pulling her further. She _could_ use the Force, she knows, to throw them off of her, to remove her restraints, but there are far too many troopers in the hangar, and _Darth Vader_ is around somewhere.

Rey struggles harder as Luke is led in a different direction. The troopers just tighten their hold on her arms and continue to drag her away. Tears sting her eyes.

 _Ben!_ She calls out into the bond, but she gets no response.

Rey tries to control her emotions, to calm her breathing, but it’s hard. Her body is practically vibrating with anxiety. She needs Ben. He is the one with all of the answers, he’s the one who knows what is supposed to happen and how and when. It feels like something solid inside of her is cracking. How can she do this on her own?

Then, suddenly, it all stops – the anxiety, the worry, the fear, it all shifts into hard-set determination. Okay, so she’s been captured, is being held prisoner on an enemy base with no real means of escape – but how many times has she been here before? If anyone can do this, it’s her. She needs to be strong. She needs to be the scavenger. She needs to be the girl who escaped Starkiller Base. She needs to be the girl who fought Snoke’s guards. She needs to be all of these things, she can, and she will.

Rey cautiously reaches into the minds of one of the troopers, searching for where they are being taken, for where Luke is being taken. The detention blocks, she assumes. There had to be multiple on a battle station of this size, maybe they were each being taken to different ones? That would make things more complicated, to be sure, but not impossible, never impossible.

Rey’s heart drops into her stomach when the two words she pulls from the troopers mind are not ‘detention block’, but ‘ _immediate execution_ ’. Her mind is a whirlwind of terrible, half-thought through plans and everything that can go wrong as they are all ushered into a small, enclosed room. Rey’s heart is beating hard against her chest as she realizes that this room doesn’t lead anywhere else, that this is _it_.

Chewie moans lowly about his binders being too tight, but none of the troopers pay him much mind. Rey would bet that none of them understand Shyriiwook.

“You’re right, Chewie.” Han grumbles. “Our _hosts_ aren’t being very accommodating.”

“Shut up,” One trooper says as he forces Han down onto his knees.

“Whoa! Hey, I take it back!” Han begins desperately as he realizes what’s about to happen. “You guys are great –”

“I said, shut -”

But the trooper never finishes his thought as Rey use the Force to throw him against the far wall which he hits with a hard thud. Her binders along with Han’s and Chewie’s clatter to the floor with a flick of her wrists and she quickly wrenches away the blaster from the trooper nearest her. She turns quickly to shoot the one on her right and throws their blaster towards Han who catches it without missing a beat. Chewie, his arms now free, rips the blaster out of the hands of one of the guards nearest him, nearly ripping the man’s arm off in the process.

All three of them now armed, Rey, Han, and Chewie make short work of the remaining troopers. Quietly, they wait for alarms to sound or for more troopers to flood the room, but nothing happens.

“Thanks for the assist, sweetheart.” Han says winking at Rey.

“Han, I’ve told you, it’s _Rey_.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Han says, brushing her off. “Let’s just get off of this station, alright?”

Chewie groans in assent as he and Han shuffle through the fallen troopers and past Rey towards the door. Han stops in front of it, presses something into the keypad on the wall, pulls hard on the frame and hits the durasteel door with the butt of his rifle.

“ _Damn_ , locked.” Han grunts as he continues trying to pull the door open, the blaster hanging loosely on his back. “Chewie, can I get some _help_ with this?”

“Wait, we need to get Ben and Luke.” _And Leia_ , Rey adds in her head.

“Listen, I – _huh_ – appreciate that they’re your friends, but – _ugh_ – they dragged me into this.” Han says as he and Chewie continue to try and pull open the locked, sliding door. “I’m not about to run around this space station crawling with stormtroopers to save their necks, not my job, not my problem.”

Rey’s jaw clenches. _It’s your wife, your brother-in-law and your son, definitely your problem_ , she thinks, her brows knitting together in frustration. Was it always so difficult to convince Han to do the right thing?

“You can’t get off of this thing without my help. You help me find my friends and I’ll help you.” Rey says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Thanks, sweethe – _Rey_ ,” Han begins after a bit of sardonic laughter. “I think we can – _ugh_ – handle it.”

“Please,” Rey says, rolling her eyes. “You can’t even get out of this _room_ on your own.”

“You think _you_ can get this door open?” Han asks stepping back as his eyes run over Rey’s form. “Be my guest, _Rey_.”

“Promise you’ll help me if I do.” She says, sticking her hand out for a handshake to solidify their deal.

“Yeah, alright.” Han says. Slapping his hand into hers while looking back at Chewie who has also stopped trying, in vain, to open the door. “You’ve got a deal.”

With the flick of just two of her fingers, the door opens smoothly. She doesn’t even try to keep the smug smile from spreading across her face. Han is shocked for a moment, his mouth parted slightly, but then his features fall into a dark scowl before he storms out of the room grumbling something about ‘ _the Force_ ’ and ‘ _Damn Jedi_ ’.

Rey jogs to keep up with Han and Chewie as they race headlong down the triangular corridors of the Death Star, stopping short at each corner or intersection to check for patrolling troopers.

“Wait up!” Rey calls out from behind them. “We need to find where the detention blocks are!”

“No, _we_ ,” Han gestures between himself and Chewie. “Need to find a hangar with a ship so we can get the hell offa this thing!”

Rey steps backwards, her chest tightening.

“But you promised!”

“Well, looks like I just taught you a lesson in making a deal with a smuggler when there’re no credits on the table – _don’t_.”

“Listen here, you -”

Rey’s words die in her throat as pain, hot and sharp, courses through her body. She braces herself against the wall behind her to keep herself from falling to the floor, one hand grasping for some sort of hold in the slick, black material of the angled surface, and the other clutching her abdomen where the pain seems to have originated. It stabs and throbs for a long moment before subsiding.

“Hey, are – are you alright?” Han asks from somewhere beyond her view. Chewie has already rushed to her side, one furry arm thrown under one of hers to help her stay upright.

“I – I don’t – _Ben_!” She realizes instantly. He must be in trouble. She reaches out to him in the Force, but she can’t quite find him. There’s another presence too near him, too dark, too angry. “Ben’s in trouble, he’s hurt, we have to -”

Rey is cut off again, but this time it is, thankfully, not from a surge of pain from an unknown, unseen force, but the sight of a stormtrooper, rounding the corner in front of her. Seemingly not seeing any of them there, he tucks himself behind the corner and peeks his helmet around the bend and sighs, almost seeming relieved.

It is only when Rey and Han and Chewie pull their blasters on him that the trooper takes notice of them at all. He whips around to them and throws his hands up in the air in surrender.

“Whoa, hey, wait!” A familiar, if modulated, voice says. “Don’t shoot.”

* * *

Not much times passes after his father leaves the room before Luke realizes that he needs to get out. His friends are in trouble, he’s sure of that. His father had called them his ‘captors’ and said that they would be ‘dealt with’. Luke’s not exactly sure what that means, but he knows that it can’t be good.

His first problem, he realizes, is getting the door open. He wonders if there is some way to use the Force to help himself. Oh, if only Rey were here! Or Ben, even. Luke slumps on the foot of the bed and threads his fingers through his blond hair. He should try to do what Rey taught him, connect with the Force, maybe that could help.

He crosses his legs underneath him on the bed and breathes in deeply. It is difficult to calm his fraying nerves, but he does his best. He reaches out with his feelings and he sees it, the web of the Force spread before him. It’s so different here than it had been on the _Falcon_. So many lifeforms living and buzzing around him when he’s so open is almost overwhelming, but he pushes through the feeling.

There are points of light scattered all around him, like stars. Some of them shine brightly, others are dull, more like a dim glow, while a few are like points of darkness – he stays away from them. There is someone outside of his door, he can feel them, one of the duller lights. A guard posted outside of his room, maybe? They could open the door, he bets, he just needs to give them a reason to.

Luke jumps to his feet, his mind and body buzzing. His eyes search the room. What would make the guard open the door? Maybe if he banged on the door and yelled to be let out the guard would come in to shut him up? No, they were probably trained against that. Maybe if they thought Luke was hurt? That might work!

Without thinking further he runs over to the table and chairs near the door. With only a moment’s hesitation, he’s worried about making a mess, he throws the table onto its side, the metal tray and fruit fly to the floor, the tray clattering loudly. He runs over to the doorway, his stomach tied in knots.

“Oh! Um – Ouch!” He cries out, certain that he’s not doing a very good job of acting. “Help! Someone help me! My – my leg!”

For a torturous minute, or maybe it’s really only a few seconds, nothing happens. Then, the door slides open with a soft _whoosh_ , a single stormtrooper stands in the threshold in front of Luke and it’s like the world stops.

Luke can feel his heartbeat reverberate through his whole body and he’s not sure he’s breathing. What does he do now? He hadn’t thought the plan out this far! He can’t attack the trooper, they’re armed and he’s not. His hands shake beside him as he tries to process some sort of plan. His mind flashes back to Mos Eisley when they had been confronted by those troopers in the street. Luke had been frightened and panicked then too, but Ben had been so calm.

_The Force allows you to influence weaker minds, the weaker the easier, and there are no weaker minds than stormtroopers’._

He’d spoken slowly and calmly and the troopers had repeated him and done exactly what he’d said. Hadn’t he done something with his hand too?

“Um, dro – drop your weapon and leave this door unlocked.” Luke says waving his hand quickly in front of his face.

“What?” The trooper asks, his helmet tilting to the side in confusion.

Luke takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. He needs to do it just like Ben had done, he needs to be cool, collected, what was the word Rey used when they mediated together? Centered, that was it.

“Drop your weapon and leave this door unlocked.” Luke says again, his voice even.

The trooper takes a step towards Luke who steps backwards and nearly trips on the fruit and the metal tray scattered all over the floor.

“What are you doing?” The trooper asks, genuine confusion in their voice. “Are you even actually hurt?” He looks down at the floor and sees the mess that Luke has made and shakes his head. “Just stay quiet in here.”

The trooper turns and starts back towards the door. Luke’s panic returns in full force. His eyes flit back and forth quickly as he tries to think of something, _anything_. Without thinking, he reaches down and picks up the heavy metal tray from the ground and hits the trooper across the back of the helmet with it.

The trooper falls to the ground in a heap. Luke inhales sharply as he takes a step backwards, letting the tray fall from his hands and hit the ground with a loud clash. Had he hurt the trooper? Is he… _dead_?

Luke rushes to the troopers side and lifts the helmet from his head. The man is out cold, but definitely not dead. Luke breathes a sigh of relief. He’s not exactly sure what he should do right now and his fingers twitch nervously in front of him.

The door to the room he’d been locked in leads to a living area of sorts, if it could be called that. The room is sparsely furnished as if the person to whom it belongs hardly lives here at all. Is this his father’s personal living quarters? A large transparisteel viewport lines one wall looking out into the deep vastness of space. He can see Alderaan below them, a blue-green ball with swirling white clouds hanging in the darkness surrounded by stars. It’s a beautiful sight and Luke would love to take it if, if he had the time, but he doesn’t.

There’s another door opposite the viewport. Maybe it leads out! He looks down at himself. He can’t just run around this space station in his old clothes from Tatooine he’ll stick out like a sore thumb. He glances back at the trooper sprawled out on the floor of the bedroom and an idea forms.

Luke works as quickly and as carefully as possible removing the troopers armor and donning it himself over his regular clothes. He leaves the man wearing practically nothing and his stomach twists with guilt as he hopes his father will not be too angry with the guard for allowing him to escape but he can’t worry about that now. His friends are in trouble and he has to help them.

He rushes over to the doors he suspects lead out of the living quarters and into the rest of the station. It is, of course, locked. Luke throws his head back in frustration – because nothing can be _easy_ for him, now can it? He sighs before banging on the door.

“Hey, uh, I think something is wrong with the, uh, kid.” He says doing his best impression of the guard’s voice. It’s not great but the way the helmet modifies his voice helps considerably. He hears shuffling on the other side of the door, but nothing happens. He bangs again, harder this time. “Seriously, I need someone in here, someone -”

The door slides open smoothly. Luke’s eyes are wide and he swallows hard, but luckily the helmet hides all of this. Two troopers stand on the other side of the doorway, staring at him expectantly. He throws his arm out in the direction of the bedroom he’d been locked in.

“He’s, uh, in there. I’m not sure what happened, but, uh…”

The troopers don’t seem to need any further prompting to enter the living area. The moment he’s fairly sure they can’t see him he takes off down the hall, running as quickly as his legs will carry him. He hears commotion behind him, shouting, but he doesn’t turn around. A blast of red laserfire zooms past his head, far too close for comfort, and he swears his heart stops for a full second.

“Are you crazy?” He hears someone shout from behind him. “Set it to stun!”

Luke looks down at his own blaster, or, more accurately, the one he’s stolen from the unconscious trooper. These things have a ‘stun’ setting? He wonders how to switch his own blaster to that mode as he turns a corner quickly. He runs, turning corner after corner until he’s satisfied that he’s lost his tail and then he slows from a run to a precise and determined march. He wants to run, but he knows it will only draw attention to him, attention he would like very much to avoid.

Luke does his best to re-trace the path back towards the hangar, but there had been so many identical hallways, too many rights and lefts, two or three turbolifts, he can’t remember now! Could he ask someone where the prisoners were taken? Would that be suspicious? There are signs on the walls every now and again, but they don’t tell him information he needs. ‘Databank 34B’, ‘Hangar AAB12’, none of them read ‘Your Friends This Way’.

It's not long before Luke realizes that he is dreadfully and hopelessly lost. All he knows at this point is that he was taken _up_ to his father’s living quarters, if that is where he was being kept, and so he needs to go _down_ , but this station is huge! If it’s the ‘planet killer’ Ben had talked about back on Alderaan, then it’s the size of a moon.

Luke is struggling not to cry, not that anyone would be able to see him doing it beneath his helmet, when the lift doors open. He is greeted by the sight of a whole squadron of stormtroopers. His heart in his throat, Luke tries to shuffle past them unnoticed, but one of the troopers at the front of the group, this one with a bit of red armor on their right shoulder, calls out to stop him.

“Hey, you!” The trooper calls out, but Luke doesn’t stop. “Where’s your unit?”

Luke does not turn around or make any other indication that he’s heard this trooper at all. Instead, he quickens his pace. He can hear that same trooper continue to call after him, maybe in warning, as he gets further down the hallway. He is almost jogging fully as he rounds the corner and tucks himself back against the wall, trying to steady his heart, calm his breathing. He is poking his head around the bend to see if he is being followed when he hears the shuffling and clicking of blasters behind him.

He whips around to see Rey, Han, and Chewie. Luke is so excited that he nearly jumps in the air, nearly rushes to hug them, before he realizes that he is still dressed like a stormtrooper and they all have blasters trained on him, ready to fire.

“Whoa, hey, wait!” Luke says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Don’t shoot.”

His friends seem confused, but none of them lower their blasters.

“It’s me,” He says, reaching quickly for his helmet and pulling it off his head. “It’s Luke!”

Rey is the first to lower her weapon. Her eyes fly open wide and she runs over to him and throws her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Oh, thank goodness!” She sighs against him. “I was so worried.”

“You guys have no idea how happy I am to see you.” Luke says to the group as Rey backs off, it is only then that he notices someone is missing. “Wait, where’s Ben?”

The second the words leave Luke’s mouth he regrets them. Rey’s face falls hard, she looks like she’s in pain.

“He’s still… we need to help him, let’s go.” Rey says. She starts off towards the hallway Luke had just come from but Han grabs her arm and holds her back.

“No way, sister.” He says gruffly as Rey pulls her arm out of his grasp while glaring at him. “Trust me, getting one outta two out ain’t bad numbers. Every second we spend on this thing our chances of making off alive go down – and I ain’t looking to die on this crazy weapon or whatever it is.”

Rey shoots Han a quick look that Luke doesn’t quite understand, something both sad and annoyed. She and Ben did that a lot, Luke has noticed, stole quick, confusing glances and stares, usually after he or Han had said something. Rey had told him that she and Ben shared some kind of unique connection through the Force, a ‘bond’ she had called it, so Luke had always chalked it up to that, but Ben isn’t even here right now!

“You,” Rey points a finger at Han who glares at her in return. “and you,” She points to Chewie now, who seems far less put out by the action. “You’re both coming with me – with _us_.” She inclines her head towards Luke. “You can’t talk your way off of this station, Han Solo, and there’s no way the two of you can fight your way through a hangar of stormtroopers by yourselves, not without me and Ben, understand?”

Han just continues to glower for a moment, his hazel eyes growing dark, dangerous, almost. Luke tries to take a cautionary step backwards, but Rey’s arm shoots out and grabs hold of him firmly, seemingly not willing to let any of them out of her sight. Chewie moans something Luke can’t understand as he roughly nudges Han’s back. Han shoots his glare back towards the Wookiee but after a moment he closes his eyes and sighs deeply. He doesn’t say anything, but inclines his head sharply towards Rey, indicating that he understands her terms.

“Good,” She replies shortly. “Now, we need to…”

Rey trails off, her eyes glazing over, her lower jaw trembling. She looks haunted and like she might fall over. She mouths a word Luke cannot make out and he means to ask her about it when he feels something pass over him. It feels familiar, cold and sad and hurting, but he can’t place it. Han shivers across from them.

“I know where Ben is,” Rey whispers.

* * *

It has been nearly a week since Leia Organa was captured by Imperial forces in orbit above Tatooine. At the time, she’d imagined that she would be questioned, tortured for information on the Rebellion, immediately. Instead, much to her surprise, she sat in a sterile, uncomfortable cell in the brig on Darth Vader’s personal star destroyer for days, how many exactly was unclear to her, she’d lost count after the first few, only to be moved to another cell mere hours ago.

She’d started to believe that the Empire planned on using her as a bargaining chip of some kind, to exchange her for information or surrender. Her parents, as much as they love her, would never fall for it, would never betray the Rebellion, even for her, even if they knew she’d likely die at the hands of the Empire.

She’d accepted her fate when her transport had been picked up by Vader’s ship. She only hopes that her message makes it to Obi Wan Kenobi and that her father’s trust in the man is not misplaced. Many good people died retrieving the information she’d been made custodian of, it would be up to him to ensure that their sacrifice, and likely her own, would not be in vain.

Leia sees nothing but droids, the ones who deliver her food in her cell, for days. In fact, the only living beings she’s seen since her capture are the stormtroopers who had transported her from her first cell to this new one and… _him_.

The man. She hadn’t learned his name, but he’d said that he was there to rescue her, though he’d hardly seemed prepared to do so. He’d stared at her like she was a ghost, or a light that was too bright to look at. He’d protected her, limping and wounded as he was, thrown himself in front of her when Vader had arrived, offered himself up as a willing victim. She still doesn’t know his name, but she had heard his screams, they tear at her even long after they’ve stopped.

When Vader appears in the doorway of her newest cell for the second time that day, Leia sits upright, her back straight as a pin. She puts on the bravest face she can muster as she prepares to face him. She does shiver a bit, despite herself, both from the dark, imposing figure he strikes, silhouetted by the red light of the hallway, and from the way the air seemed to grow icy around him. She’s thoroughly surprised when he orders a droid to take a blood sample and leaves without another word, though he does turn to look at her once more before the cell door shuts behind him.

She’s… frustrated, almost. She wishes that they would get her interrogation over with. Dragging it out like this seems especially cruel, forcing her to wait on pins and needles for days, letting her grow uncomfortably comfortable with her surroundings before moving her again and again. She’s tired of waiting, tired of the fear and anxiety bubbling just under the surface, threatening to boil over, leaving her constantly on edge.

Leia lies down against the cold, hard durasteel of the bench in her cell and closes her eyes. She is tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep with everything that’s happened in the past hour or so running through her mind. That man, is he alive? He’d looked so sad, it breaks her heart to think about now. He’d also seemed so familiar. She’s certain she’s never met him, he seemed the memorable type, but there was something about him that she just seemed to innately recognize.

The sound of shouting and blasterfire outside of her cell is enough to jerk her back up into an upright position. What is going on? Her first thought is of the man, is it him? Has he broken out of his cell? Is the rescue back on? Is it the Rebellion? Have they stormed the base – or wherever she is? Both explanations seem equally doubtful, but what else could it be?

She’s not quite sure what she should have been expecting, but she is surprised by the ragtag group that awaits her on the other side of her cell door as it slides open. The first one she sees is a girl, her brown hair tied up into three buns that are currently threatening to come loose, her white tunic and leggings have seen better days as well. The second is a boy, blond, with clear blue eyes and an innocent face. Behind them stand a man and a Wookiee, both of whom have tucked themselves against the wall opposite her doorway and are shooting blasters at something on the other end of the hallway.

“Leia!” The girl cries, running over and throwing her arms around a very shocked Leia as though they know each other.

“Princess!” The boy says, sounding just as excited and relieved as the girl.

“That doesn’t look like Ben to me.” The man grumbles.

“What is going on?” Leia asks, dumbfounded, as the girl pulls away. “Who are you people?”

“I’m Luke Skywalker,” The boy answers enthusiastically. It is only now that Leia notices he is wearing stormtrooper armor, but she doesn’t think he is actually a trooper, he’s a little short for that. “We’re here to rescue you.”

 _Rescue_ , there’s that word again. Leia stands as she takes a look at their blasters, at least they’re a little bit more prepared than the man had been, poor guy. Her heart sinks for a moment as he creeps back into her thoughts, but there would be time for grieving later.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The content of this chapter and the last is not exactly linear timeline wise, with a few parts taking place before, simultaneously and after other parts - I hope that it all makes sense! No Vader in this chapter, well, more like a cameo - haha! But don't worry, we'll see some of Darth Dad's thought process in the next part!
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this part and exploring more POVs with Rey, Luke and Leia 💖 (the latter being a favorite of mine to write), I only hope that I've done all of their characters justice. But! The OT crew are FINALLY all together, and I'm having fun with it. Han is one of my favorite characters (both to write and just in general) and I am loving bouncing he and Leia off of each other - so look out for that in the future!
> 
> I cannot overstate my thanks for everyone's very kind comments and kudos and bookmarks and such - I genuinely appreciate them all so much! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks so much for reading!😊💕


	9. Panic! On the Death Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader tries to make contact with the comm station in detention block AA-23 but hears nothing but quiet static on the other end. That is… troubling. He tries again.
> 
> “Uh, everything under control, situation normal.” The crackling voice rings through the comm, a voice that is very clearly not Lieutenant Childsen. “Slight weapons malfunction, but everything’s under control now, we’re fine here – how are you?” 
> 
> Anger building, he strides quickly from the med bay back towards the detention block he had just left. Something inside of him nags him to com the troopers guarding Luke. He does so – no response.
> 
> \---
> 
> Vader learns that he IS the father... again, Leia and Han begin their fairy tale romance, and Rey tries something new!

Darth Vader considers the man lying before him on the ground very carefully. His… _grandson_? It is impossible, of course, this man is older than Vader’s own son, and yet – the lightsabers, there was no other way to explain the existence of two. He built that blade, he found the crystal on Illum, it had attuned to him, turned blue in his small hand, the crystal – _crystals_ call to him even now as he turns from the room and lets the door close behind him.

The woman from the vision, the one with dark hair and brown eyes, the one who looks so much like – older, perhaps, but that’s only natural if… Vader wants to believe that this is impossible, all of it should be, but there was no mistaking what he had seen, what he knows.

That was clearly the man’s mother, Vader had gathered that from his mind, and if his… grandson’s name is Solo, like the pilot, and not Skywalker, like his son – there really could be many explanations, but only one that Vader can think of now. He remembers now how the man had protected the princess, defended her. At the time, Vader had considered it an act of misplaced chivalry, something strange for one so attuned to the Dark Side, for sure, but it had certainly been an easier explanation than – _time travel_? Is such a thing even possible?

The princess sits upright when he enters her cell. She hides her fear well, or she would if Vader could not sense it so easily trough the Force. He watches her quietly as the droid retrieves a blood sample. How had he not seen it earlier, or sensed it at least? The resemblance is nearly uncanny. The same eyes, the same hair, similar nose, even the way she holds herself is reminiscent of…

Vader says nothing as the droid collects the sample and neither does the princess. She glares at him with a fire, an anger he recognizes as his _own_. He says nothing as he leaves her again, though he does steal one last glance back at her. She looks puzzled, it’s possible that she is as confused as he is in this moment.

Once he and the droid reach the nearest med bay, which is, unfortunately, still quite a ways away from the detention block, he orders the test. Vader’s own genetic material is already on file, so only hers needs to be processed and run against his. It only takes a short time, though the waiting certainly feels like an eternity, before the screen flashes blue and the device used to process the samples emits a small ding. It’s a match, he had known it would be, but he had to be sure.

“Destroy that sample along with the results of this analysis.” The med-droid silently complies with Vader’s command.

Many emotions are coursing through Vader’s system, most of which he will not name or process, one of which is anger, though that is always present. Anger at the Organas for stealing his child, for forcing her to join their pitiful Rebellion, for sacrificing her like she is expendable, like she is nothing at all.

He had essentially called off the search for the Organas planet-side, content that they would be destroyed in the once inevitable destruction of their planet – a decision that would now need to be reassessed or, at the very least, delayed. He will find them, he will make them feel his rage before _he_ , personally, destroys them.

He is sure Kenobi is behind this, who else had known about his children’s true parentage? Were other Jedi involved? He wouldn’t put it past them. To separate his children from not only their father, but each other, that was the exact brand of cruelty he had come to expect from the Order. He cannot understand it, but he’s long since given up on understanding the evils of the Jedi.

He unclips the commlink from his belt. The princess, Leia, his _daughter_ , will have to be moved. Another room will need to be prepared in his quarters. He’s never imagined that he would make use of so many of the rooms in his personal apartments. Once she is moved, then he can explain everything to her. She may take the information poorly, he can sense that her temperament is different to his son’s, but she will come to understand, in time.

Then, of course, there is his _grandson_. He still has no idea what to make of the boy – the man. In the vision, Vader had seen him kneel to a warped and twisted version of his mask, he’d clearly aspired to become like Vader, had sought his guidance. Now, however, he seems intent on working against Vader.

He’d fought him, he’d kept his son from him. What are his intentions? It is clear that he’d meant to keep the truth of the future from Vader, but why? Also, disturbingly, it is clear that Vader is dead, perhaps killed in some kind of explosion from the looks of his mask, in the time his grandson comes from. How does he die? Can it be prevented? They will have to speak later, hopefully without the need for violence.

The man, Ben, or, Kylo Ren, as he had called himself, clearly needs medical attention, but Vader is not sure if he can trust him to be brought up to a med bay, even under heavy security. He decides that he will send down a med-droid to see to the man’s pain and injuries, surely, that will be sufficient.

Vader tries to make contact with the comm station in detention block AA-23 but hears nothing but quiet static on the other end. That is… troubling. He tries again.

“Uh, everything under control, situation normal.” The crackling voice rings through the comm, a voice that is very clearly not Lieutenant Childsen. “Slight weapons malfunction, but everything’s under control now, we’re fine here – how are you?”

Anger building, he strides quickly from the med bay back towards the detention block he had just left. Something inside of him nags him to comm the troopers guarding Luke. He does so – no response.

He stops in his tracks, his commlink bursting to pieces in his clenched fist. Rage, hot and fiery, surges through him so strongly that even the troopers around him who are about as attuned to the Force as the blasters in their hands shudder visibly. Incompetence, he is surrounded by incompetence.

* * *

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

Leia tries to push past Luke and the girl into the hallway and immediately regrets the decision as a line of red-hot plasma wizzes by her face.

“Look out, _Princess_.” The older man says, pushing her back into the cell, causing her to run into Luke, nearly sending the both of them tumbling to the floor. She doesn’t miss the way he derisively spits her title, Leia Organa hardly ever misses anything at all.

“Some rescue this is!” She huffs.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” The man growls sarcastically, his face screwed up with what might be pure contempt. He does not look at her, however, his eyes trained on whomever is firing back at them. “Tell me how I can bring this rescue up to your _royal standards_ , your worship.”

He fires his own blaster twice as Leia’s nostrils flare, her notorious temper rearing its ugly head. Her father has warned her that it would get her into a lot of trouble one day, and maybe today is that day, but she doesn’t even care right now. She opens her mouth, never content unless she’s gotten the last word, but a soft hand on her shoulder distracts her.

“I – um, excuse me, Princess.” The girl says as she gently pushes past Leia to peak out of the doorway, her blaster trained on the threat Leia can not see from her position.

After a brief exchange the returning fire slows and then stops, the girl gestures to Luke and Leia to follow her out into the hall.

“Let’s get a move on this, sweetheart.” The man says gruffly, his eyes not leaving the end of the hall where the turbolifts reside.

“It’s _Rey_ , Han.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Han says rolling his eyes. “Let’s just find your boyfriend so we can get the hell out of here.”

The sound of static coming from the comm station at the front of the detention block catches everyone’s attention. Leia feels her heart shoot up into her throat.

“Someone’s trying to comm the detention block!” She practically shouts.

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Han says rushing off towards the comm station. “Just find loverboy so we can get the hell outta here!”

The girl, Rey, glares at him but says nothing. Instead, she closes her eyes for a moment. Leia feels something wash over her, it is like a warm breeze. Without a word, the girl practically sprints down the hallway towards another cell – Leia’s old cell, the cell that the man who’d tried to rescue her might still be in. Leia races quickly behind the girl. The door opens with the smallest gesture of Rey’s hand.

Leia inhales sharply when she sees him. He is sprawled out on the floor before her, clearly unconscious and, Leia realizes with warm relief, breathing, though it seems labored. He looks pale, or paler than she remembers, and drawn. She feels it again as she looks at him now, that instinctive, elemental recognition that resonates from deep within her.

She approaches the man slowly and kneels down on the ground beside him across from Rey who had rushed to his side the moment the door opened. Leia watches the other girl wipe sweat-dampened hair from the man’s brow, her large eyes watery, her lower lip quivering very slightly.

“Ben,” She whispers softly.

Ben’s wounds are much worse looking up close. She’d noticed them when he’d barged into her cell earlier, but now they look awful. Deep, angry slashes and burns on his arm and leg, the cauterized cut on his shoulder looks to have broken open at some point, drying blood staining his exposed skin. Without questioning why, Leia places a careful hand on the man’s chest – maybe it’s to prove that he is breathing, though she can see the staggered rise and fall of his chest with her own eyes.

His eyelids slowly flutter open, seemingly at her touch. Dark eyes flick between Rey and Leia, settling hazily on the latter. He looks so sad and pained, it breaks Leia’s heart and she doesn’t know why, exactly.

“Mom,” He mutters, dazed, his eyes glossing over. “Mom.”

Leia hadn’t been sure her heart could break any further, but now she knows that it can. This poor man is so delirious with pain that he has mistaken her for his own mother. Tears threaten the corners of Leia’s eyes and she wonders if there is anything she can do for him, to help him, to comfort him – he had spared her from Vader’s torture, after all.

“What happened to Ben?” Luke asks from the doorway of the cell, his brows knitting together in deep concern.

“It was Vader,” Leia confesses, guilt settling in her stomach like a stone.

Ben’s eyes fly open at the name looking more alert than they had previously. His breathing grows quick and shallow and he seems to wince at every other breath, like it is too painful to bear.

“Vader,” He repeats, his voice laced with concern. He looks fully at Rey now whose hand rests on one of his cheeks, the one closest to Leia, the one that bears an old scar. “Rey, he – _ah_!” He begins as he tries to move slightly but can’t finish the sentence as he gasps in pain.

“I’m not sure they bought it, we’re gonna have company again real soon!” Han calls impatiently from the hallway.

“Can you move, Ben?” Rey asks softly.

Ben tries, it really looks like he does. He adjusts his weight and pulls his arms behind his body to lift himself up, Leia and Rey helping him on either side, but before he’s even raised himself slightly off of the ground his arms give out and he falls back, grunting in agony.

Rey replaces her hand on his cheek and rubs the pad of her thumb along the hollow under his eye. She shushes him as he tries to apologize, then she closes her eyes, almost in concentration, and something very strange happens. Leia watches with awe and confusion as the angry looking slash on Ben’s arm starts to knit back together, smooth flesh replacing blackened and red burned skin.

* * *

Kylo feels Rey’s hand on his face, he can feel the tingling warmth that starts there and begins spreading through his body, leeching the pain from his wounds, knitting his burned and torn flesh back together. He feels the warmth pull at something inside of him as well, something that burns almost too brightly to handle. He breathes deeply, relieved at being able to do so without pain for the first time since he woke – but then his eyes snap open, he realizes what’s happening.

Rey is _healing_ him. His right hand flies up to grip Rey’s wrist. He yanks her hand away from his face with more force than he’d intended. She stares at him, her eyes questioning.

“Stop,” He means the word as a command, but it sounds more like a plea. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Force healing is not something Kylo’s ever been able to do, but he understands the principle. It’s all about giving, hence his inability to perform it. Giving up a bit of your own life-force to the one you are healing, it’s all about giving, but it’s about taking too. Rey is taking his pain, pulling it into herself, and he can’t have that.

For a moment it looks like she is going to fight him, but, thankfully, she doesn’t. Her arm goes slack in his hand.

“Do you think you can get up now, move?” She asks softly.

Kylo nods, as best he can from where he lies on the ground and rises slowly. The pain is still there, but it is lessened, he can move, can walk, it isn’t anything he hasn’t dealt with before. His side still throbs awfully and he can’t put his full weight on his right leg, but overall, the situation is more than manageable.

Shame and horror floods his system as he thinks back to how unforgivably _weak_ he had been, succumbing to Vader’s torture. He should have been strong enough to withstand that. What has he trained for, suffered for, sacrificed for, if not to be able to tolerate something like that? He is truly a failure – though that’s a realization that has been dawning on him slowly since Starkiller Base.

The sound of blasterfire rips Kylo from his dark, swirling thoughts. He looks up past his uncle in the doorway. Red bolts of plasma fly down the hall. Han crouches into an indent in the black walls of the corridor, firing his blaster blindly at their attackers.

“Oh, great!” He says, his voice thick with dark sarcasm. “More of our _friends_ are here!”

The fingers on Kylo’s right hand tense around empty air as though they can sense the fight raging just outside. He needs his saber, his blood, every fiber of his being calls for his blade, but Vader – no, he can sense it, it’s so close.

His head whips around and he sees it, the service droid in the corner of the cell still holding the heavy metal tray of lightsabers, his own included. Perhaps Kylo’s reveal had been of some use after all. Vader, it would seem, had been so shocked he’d forgotten the weapons. Or, maybe he’d just thought an unconscious Kylo was no threat. Either way, Kylo knows that Vader will be returning soon which means that they need to _move_.

His right arm shoots out as he calls his to his weapon with the Force. The relief he feels when it hits his open hand, when his fingers wrap around the hilt is nearly overwhelming. It feels like power, feels like control – two things he desperately needs right now, two things he’s always needed.

He watches Rey call her own lightsaber to her hand. He’s not sure what the sight should make him feel, but he is filled with a nearly all-consuming anticipation. He calls the other two sabers, the Kenobi blade and the undamaged Skywalker blade, to himself and clips them to the waistband of his pants. He considers for a moment giving Luke back his father’s saber, but he’s still so untrained, he’s more likely to hurt one of them or himself than be of any use with it, and, as illogical as it is, some part of Kylo rebels at the idea of arming his uncle.

“Here,” Rey says thrusting her own blaster into Leia’s hands. “I know you can handle yourself.”

A small puff of air escapes Kylo’s mouth as he looks at the princess again, really looks at her. Her eyes meet his own and they are filled with worry, concern, maybe pity. He has to tear his gaze away, she looks too much like his mother when she looks at him like that, like she would after he would wake up screaming from the nightmares, like she would when he would ask when his father was coming home.

Between the shame running through his system, the pain still thrumming in his body and his mother’s eyes on him, Kylo desperately needs distraction – luckily, there seems to be plenty to go around outside.

“Now, I don’t want to bother any of you,” Han calls from his hiding place in the hallway. “But I could use some _help_ out here!”

Kylo ignites his blade, the red plasma crackles and snarls in his grasp, he nearly sighs at the familiar sensation of the hilt vibrating angrily in his hand. It feels like a lost limb has been returned to him. He can see his mother physically flinch away from the blade, her eyes flying wide at the sight of it, but he pays the action no mind.

He strides past Luke who is still crouched in the doorway, the nose of his blaster just poking out into the hall, seemingly trying to shoot at their attackers without looking at them at all. There are just about over a dozen troopers at the end of the hall, slowly trying to advance on the group. They must have no idea who they are shooting at, because Kylo notices that their blasters are _not_ set to stun.

Being the large, dark presence he is with a glowing, red sword by his side, Kylo draws the attention of many of the stormtroopers, which he is grateful for. He can feel the troopers’ fear. He knows what they must think when they see his blade. They know Vader, they know what it means – it means death. They’re right.

“What are you doing?” He hears Han cry out from behind him as he begins reflecting blaster bolts with the red blade in his hands. “What’s he _doing?_ ”

Kylo reaches out a hand to freeze an incoming bolt and sends it screaming back to its master, the trooper crumples to the ground, lifeless.

“I’m helping.” Kylo growls lowly, his focus on the troopers. “Just don’t shoot me.”

Kylo’s massive frame fills most of the hexagonal hallway. He’s always been altogether too large for his own good. Too tall, too long limbs, too big ears, too large nose. It had been the bane of his existence as a boy, always hunching over, trying to make himself seem lesser, smaller, always tripping over his own legs which never seemed to stop growing.

What had been his burden as a child is his benefit as a man. He knows the intimidating figure he strikes, the fear it brings to his enemies in battle. It’s the fear he can draw on, fuel his strength in the Force, in the Dark Side. For the past seven years it’s been nothing but fear and anger and pain that has guided him, and it’s been enough, it’s been all he’s needed, or, it had been.

Rey is beside him as he enters the round communications area at the front of the cellblock. He can feel her Light, so close, intertwining with his soul as though it were his own. It is like they’re back in the throne room, their minds and bodies connecting in a way he’s never experienced before or since, and now, just like then, they each keep a careful eye on the other.

Once all of the troopers are handled, he and Rey stand amidst the wreckage and destruction and death, panting heavily. Kylo clutches his side, his broken ribs having become agitated from all of the movement and strain.

“Are you all coming or not?” Rey calls out to the rest of the group breathlessly.

Kylo, Rey and the rest pile into the nearly too-small turbolift. His blade is off now, but he holds the hilt in his hand at the ready. He is shoulder to shoulder with Rey, their connection buzzing contentedly at their close proximity, as it always seems to do. He can feel Luke shift uncomfortably behind him. Uncertainty and doubt flow off of his uncle in waves, but Kylo has neither the time nor the desire to consider why now.

“So, what’s the plan?” Han asks from somewhere behind Kylo who can feel his body tense up the way it always does when he hears the man’s voice.

“You don’t have a _plan_?” Leia asks. Though Kylo’s back is to her he can see her eyes narrowing in his mind’s eye, her neck craning up to look at her soon-to-be husband in disappointment.

“Forgive me, your worshipfulness, but I didn’t _plan_ on being here in the first place – none of this rescue was part of my _plan_.”

 _Just like old times_. Kylo thinks ruefully and he keeps the thought to himself.

“Your ship is in the hangar we arrived in on level 152.” Kylo says, interrupting his parent’s bickering, and it’s certainly not the first time he’s done that. He keeps his tone as flat and even as possible.

“What?” Han gasps. “The _Falcon_ – What’s the _Falcon_ doing here?”

Kylo doesn’t answer the pilot. He knows that Han hates to be ignored and that the line of questioning would be far from over, but luckily he is saved by the lift doors flying open and the sight of half a squadron of stormtroopers, all waiting for them.

* * *

As the turbolift doors open Leia pulls her blaster up to chest height and breathes deeply. For a second, it’s like time slows, allows her to aim properly at the trooper directly in front of her and fire before her target has a chance to even move. The sensation is strange and unlike anything Leia has ever experienced before, but she just chalks it up to the adrenaline surging through her system and does not allow it to shake her. She can think more on it later once they are all safely off of - wherever they are now.

The group begins to make their way down the twisting, sterile halls leading towards the hangar, she assumes. Ben takes the lead of the group, carving through whatever opposition they meet with ease, his red blade crackling like a semi-controlled flame in his hands. Rey takes the rear of the group, protecting them from any troopers coming from behind.

Leia does her best to be of use, she detests feeling useless or, even worse, like a burden. She’ll be the first to admit that her accuracy with a blaster leaves something to be desired. She has some experience, basic training, but she’s no crack shot. Still, if she can be of help, she will be. More of her shots miss than hit, but she does manage to take out a few of their attackers.

At one point, Leia is firing at a squadron of troopers down the hall when a hand grabs her roughly by the arm and pulls her hard to the right just in time to rip her out of the way of an incoming blaster bolt. She stumbles and falls into Han, his hand still holding fast to her wrist.

She just looks up at him for a moment, because he is unfairly tall - or, perhaps it’s just that she’s unfairly short. Red blasterfire wizzes behind Leia, but it cannot reach them where they are hiding behind an outcropping in the wall. In this little bubble away from the heat of battle, Leia allows herself to notice that Han’s eyes are hazel and that his nose is crooked, like it’s been broken a few times before, but it suits him, almost.

“Watch yourself, princess.” Han says, his voice aggravatingly soft, his mouth twisting into an infuriating smirk that sets Leia’s blood on fire as he looks down at her. “I won’t always be around to save your skin.”

Leia has her hand sprawled on his chest to steady herself and she pushes back against him, shoving him hard into the wall behind him. She can feel her body grow hot with irritation, her cheeks surely flushing bright red.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re having fun.” She snaps, turning her attention back to the action beyond them, her face still burning.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you’, your _highness_.” He sneers and Leia can practically _hear_ that stupid smile on his face. She would love nothing more than to wipe it off, but the more logical part of her, the part that is not controlled by her temper, knows that now is not the time for that. She grits her teeth and pulls all of her focus off of the scoundrel behind her and onto the threat in front of her.

Leia notices it a few more times as they make their way towards the hangar bay where the ship is waiting for them, that slight distortion in time, or maybe it’s just her perception that seems distorted. She even manages to dodge an incoming bolt on her own without seeing it first, as if she had _known_ it was there - but that wasn’t possible. It’s simple dumb luck, most likely.

When the group enters the hangar and Leia is finally able to see the ship that is waiting for them she nearly stops dead in her tracks. _Calling that piece of garbage a ship is being very generous_ , Leia thinks to herself with a grimace.

“We’re really going to try to fly out of here on _that_?” She asks no one in particular. She can see Han’s jaw tense at her words.

“You are more than welcome to stay here, if you like, your highness.” Han says, not even bothering to look back at her as he rushes for the ship.

Troopers flood the hangar from all sides. Blaster bolts fly in from every which direction. Ben and Rey fall back a bit, allowing Leia and the others to run ahead behind their protective blades. Leia notices that, slowly, many of the Stormtroopers lower their weapons, cease firing on the escapees. Some of them look around, seemingly confused or as though they have received conflicting orders.

Leia barely has any time to wonder why this is happening before she sees a tall, dark figure striding purposefully down a hall towards the hangar, a black cape flowing behind him like a shadow. Leia readies her blaster and shoots at Vader who raises one arm and almost seems to catch the bolt in his hand, completely unaffected by it.

“Stop that ship - do not allow them to leave.” She hears his deep voice command.

Leia hears the sound of a blaster fire behind her and watches as the door control for the hallway Vader occupies explode and spark. The thick blast door closes quickly, blocking Vader’s path. She should be relieved, but fear floods her chest as she sees the tip of the monster’s red laser sword begin to slowly cut its way through layers and layers of durasteel. Leia looks back to see Luke, his blaster aimed at the door, his face grave. He grabs her arm and pulls her up the gangway of the junk ship. She does not stick around to watch him close the ramp, instead, she rushes to where she hears other voices shouting.

The cockpit is a flurry of activity. Han and Chewie fly over the controls, lights flick quickly from red to green as they race through their pre-flight checks. Rey and Ben stand back, the tall, dark man looking tense and very tired, like his injuries are catching up to him yet again after the miraculous healing in the cell earlier.

“Damn!” Han shouts after a moment. “They’ve got us trapped in a tractor beam!” He whirls around in his pilot’s chair and slumps over, one hand carding through his hair.

“No!” Ben practically shouts. Leia doesn’t miss how his hand tightens around the hilt of his sword which at the moment is, thankfully, disengaged. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I should have…” He trails off as he turns towards the doorway of the cockpit, his body tensing, ready for a fight. Leia knows who he is expecting.

Leia can feel her heart beating in her head, a loud throbbing she is sure everyone else in the ship can hear as well. Vader will be on them any moment now, and once that happens, they are all done for – all, except for maybe her, as she’s sure he still wants to interrogate her to find the location of the Rebel base. Her guts churn and twist awfully as she watches the others work, feeling horribly and hopelessly useless.

Rey brushes past Han without a word and begins frantically punching something into the controls. The ship rocks and shudders as something outside hits it, hard. Leia nearly screams but manages to hold it in, though a small, hardly audible whimper does manage to escape her lips. Mortified, she only hopes that in the chaos no one else was able to hear her. She grasps the back of the seat in front of her, her blunt nails digging into the leather, already cracked and worn from age and use.

“Chewie, get the rear deflector shields on.” Rey commands firmly, the Wookiee grunts in assent as he gets to work preforming the task.

This, it would seem, is enough to catch Han’s attention, as he whirls around and stands up to see what the girl is doing to his ship.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He says trying to bat her hands away from the various knobs and buttons and switches Leia doesn’t recognize.

“Making lightspeed calculations.” She explains. “It would be a lot easier without you hovering, though.” She bumps him out of the way with her hip and Han just stares at her, mouth agape, seemingly lost for words for the first time since Leia has known him.

“You’re going to try to jump from inside the hangar?” He asks, aghast, finding his voice. “Are you _insane_?”

The Wookiee growls something that sounds like a question and Rey smiles like she is enjoying a joke no one else knows the punchline to.

“I never answer that question until I’ve done it.” She says, her tone blasé as she pulls down a switch and the whole ship shudders violently as the black of space before them flashes to the white and blue lines of hyperspace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! So, I think that I have alluded, in the past and in the tags for this story, that I don't REALLY know how space ships or space travel work, but here I go again pretending! Haha! 🤣 I mean, Han is able to jump from the hangar of the Eravana, so it's totally possible and canon, right? I say it is. Lol! 
> 
> So, the fam is officially off of the Death Star - yay, right? Yay? I'm sure Vader would disagree with me 😡 - as does my sister. They did it though, despite the odds, those crazy kids did it, and they didn't even have to swim in a trash compactor this time, which is good as R2D2 and C3PO are suspiciously absent from this narrative (never fear, they shall return soon!) And don't worry, Darth Dad is, like, super over protective and isn't going to let his kids run about with a bunch of rebel hooligans without a fight. He's coming for ya, kids!
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for your kind comments and kudos, I genuinely appreciate hearing what you all think and it always brightens my day! This specific chapter went through a whole bunch of rewrites, at one point Kylo/ Ben was going to be passed out the whole time 😴 and the escape was totally from Leia's POV, but I wanted the boy to wake up and get a win for ONCE! Haha! I hope that you've all enjoyed this chapter, thanks so, so much for reading! 😊💕


	10. We Did It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We did it?” Luke’s voice breaks the silence. He sounds equally confused and elated, the same way Leia feels in this very moment.
> 
> Still, that simple question sets her body in motion. She wraps her arms around the blond boy and hugs him, mostly because he is the closest to her. She cheers as she holds him tight, like he is an anchor that holds the truth of their safety steadfast. Soon, everyone else is hugging and cheering and whooping too. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Leia gets some bad news about home, Luke's blushin', Kylo's falling to peices, Rey's trying to put him back together, and Vader begins his rage sprial - Fun all around!

Everyone is quiet and completely still for a long moment, all four of them just staring in awe, eyes wide and mouths agape, at the lines of hyperspace glowing brightly outside of the cockpit’s viewport. Leia feels rather than hears the long exhale of the relieved sigh escaping her body. Her body is still tense, clearly having not received the update from her mind, that they are _safe_. It seems impossible, an impossible escape with impossible odds, and yet here they are.

“We did it?” Luke’s voice breaks the silence. He sounds equally confused and elated, the same way Leia feels in this very moment.

Still, that simple question sets her body in motion. She wraps her arms around the blond boy and hugs him, mostly because he is the closest to her. She cheers as she holds him tight, like he is an anchor that holds the truth of their safety steadfast. Soon, everyone else is hugging and cheering and whooping too.

Luke hugs Leia back and in a moment of pure elation and joy and relief, just happy to be alive and holding someone else, she plants a quick peck on his cheek. When she pulls back she can see that he is blushing and she laughs as she turns around to hug Chewie as well. She is not even aware that she is crying until she realizes that she has left a wet patch on his fur.

“I’m sorry,” She babbles as she pulls away from him, though he doesn’t seem to mind as he growls something that Leia thinks sounds happy and pulls her back in for another hug.

Han wraps one arm around Rey. With his other hand he reaches up and tousles her hair in a playful manner, two of her buns coming completely undone, her chestnut hair flowing freely over her shoulders.

“Now, that’s my kind of crazy!” He laughs fully, his body shaking with elation and, most likely unspent nerves. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you some time.” She says, batting the hand off of her head, though, from her smile, it’s clear that she’s not annoyed.

The only one who seems immune to the revelry is Ben. He stands mostly still, looking vaguely annoyed and in no small amount of pain. She watches as his jaw clenches when Chewie wraps his arms around the man, pulling him in for a hug. She watches his shoulders tense as Han pats him awkwardly on the back. It is only when Rey pushes herself up onto the tips of her toes and pulls him down to press a soft kiss to his lips that some of that tension seems to ease. He doesn’t smile, per say, as he lifts his head away from her, but Leia notices the line of his mouth and his eyes soften in a nearly imperceptible way.

She sees Han on the other side of the cockpit and notices that he is watching her as well. For a tense moment she wonders if she should go over and hug him too, or maybe shake his hand, or… _something._ Some part of herself that she doesn’t quite recognize definitely wants to, but she shakes her head, thinking better of it at the last second.

“So, where are we headed?” Han asks as everyone begins to quiet down again. He sits back down in his pilot’s chair and starts looking at the control panel in front of him.

“We should go to Alderaan.” Leia says firmly. They would be safe there and a selfish part of her yearns to go home, to see her parents, to hug them.

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Han says with a derisive laugh. Leia’s stomach clenches at the sound and her hands ball into fists. She doesn’t know what it is about this man that makes her like this, the way he can fire her up so easily.

“Why not?” She asks folding her arms in front of her chest. She realizes in an instant how small and like a child she sounds so she adds, “It’s my home planet, we’ll be safe there, I assure you.”

“Where do you think we just came from, _princess_?” He asks. “And I don’t know about you, but I ain’t too keen on goin’ back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Leia, we just left the Alderaan system,” Rey says softly, her eyes full of question and sympathy. “Did you not know?”

“Why were we in the Alderaan system?” Leia asks and she is surprised by how breathless she sounds.

“We were delivering your message and we got… captured.” Luke says from behind Leia. She looks back at him to find his blue eyes trained to the floor of the cockpit.

“My message?” Is all she is able to say. Her message? The one she had placed in that old R2 unit? The one meant for Obi Wan Kenobi? How had this group gotten it? Where is Kenobi?

“We were brought to the Death Star after being captured on Alderaan.” Ben explains, his voice flat, toneless.

“Death Star?”

The name of that horrible weapon snaps her out of the fog of her confusion. She’s seen for herself what that monstrosity can do, what it had done on Scarif - and, of course, she’d heard about Jedha, though she hadn’t wanted to believe at the time that something so horrible could exist, that it does, and now it’s above Alderaan? Why? Alderaan is peaceful, they have no weapons…

Her eyes widen in horror as the realization dawns on her – It’s her, they are targeting Alderaan because of _her_.

“Yeah, some name, huh?” Han huffs humorlessly from the captain’s chair.

Leia can feel her blood turn to liquid duracrete in her veins. The only thing she can hear is the pounding of her heart in her ears and the faint in and out of her breathing. Vaguely, she can feel that her hands are shaking. Her planet, her parents, her people; they are all in terrible danger, if the worst hasn’t already - no, she can’t allow herself to think like that now, it serves no one.

She breathes in deeply to steady herself. She forces her mind to work through the nearly suffocating confusion and fear that threatens to pull her down, make her useless, but she won’t allow it. If they couldn’t go to Alderaan, they would need to go to the Rebel Alliance. If there is anything she can do to save her planet, the Alliance will help. She’s sure they will, they have to.

“Has the information in my message been delivered to the Rebel Alliance?” She asks. First things first, that information is more important that her or her problems right now. If the Alliance hasn’t received the weapon’s plans, then there truly is no hope.

 _Hope is like the sun, my sweet girl,_ Leia can hear her mother’s voice in her ear even now and it nearly brings a tear to her eye. _If you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night._

“I think so,” Luke answers. “Bail had said that the information was being transferred when we spoke to him.”

“Good,” Leia nearly cries with relief, but she can cry later. “Set a course for Yavin IV.” She commands, making her voice as authoritative as possible, not allowing any of the worry clawing at her stomach to seep through and into her tone.

Han inclines his head in a sarcastic mockery of a bow before turning his attention to the controls. After fiddling with them for a short moment he laughs before spinning around, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Looks like she’s way ahead of you, your highness.” Han says jutting his thumb out at Rey as he leans back in his chair. “We’re already headed there.”

Leia is relieved to hear this, but also curious. She steals a glance at Rey who, she notices, is deliberately not meeting her eye. She doesn’t recognize this girl as being a part of the Alliance, has never seen her before today. Then again, the Alliance is rather large, and Leia doesn’t know _everyone_.

“Alright then, good.” Leia sighs as she falls back into the seat behind Han, her legs finally giving out as the adrenaline leaves her body. She rubs her right temple to offset the headache she can already feel forming at the base of her skull. She’s so tired, but she can’t sleep, not yet. There’s still so much to do.

* * *

Vader manages to cut a hole into the blast door just in time to see the Corlleian light freighter make the jump to hyperpace from inside of the hangar. The pilot of that ship is either a very accomplished one, or very stupid… more likely, they are both.

The hangar is all but completely destroyed by the action, the walls and floor are torn to shreds, what remains of the hangar is on fire, alarms blare loudly. Bits of station and ships and troopers are sucked into the harsh, unforgiving void of space. Vader holds himself firmly to the ground with the Force, his cape whipping violently at his side as the vacuum created by the ship’s unnatural departure tries to claim both it and him.

Rage, cold and potent, swirls around him. His children have been taken from him - _again_.

Vader turns, leaving the destroyed hangar behind him. He strides down the halls of the Death Star, alarms still blaring all around him, troopers and officers and engineers rush past him in a panic, though they make sure to stay clear of his path.

He enters his quarters, knowing what he will find there – well, not exactly. He had known that his son would be gone, of course, though he had not expected to find a stripped, unconscious stormtrooper sprawled on the ground of his son’s rooms. Blinded by anger, Vader ignites his lightsaber and kills the trooper on sight, before the man even has the chance to wake, to know just how grave his mistake has been. Perhaps, with hindsight being clearer, he should have questioned the man, asked what Luke had done, why he had left.

Why _had_ Luke left? Perhaps Vader had come on too strong, frightened the boy with talk of defeating his master. He _is_ just a boy, after all, and having grown up in the simple role of a farmer, unawares of his true parentage, his true potential, his rightful role, the prospect of killing an emperor may seem a daunting one.

Perhaps the boy was tricked into leaving. He had seemed to believe that his captors were his friends. Is Vader’s grandson behind this? Why is that man so determined to keep Vader’s children from him? Still, he had been unconscious when Vader had left him and in very poor condition, a weaker person may very well have died from what his grandson had endured. How had he recovered so quickly? Had he enough time to recover, break out himself and the princess, find Vader’s son as well as the girl and the pilot and make it to the hangar with enough time to evade Vader? Surely not.

And for that matter, what of the girl and the pilot? Vader had, originally, deemed the two of them inconsequential, spares, set them for immediate execution and thought little else of them. Unfortunately, this would seem to have been a mistake. The pilot is most likely Vader’s grandson’s father and the girl is… a mystery. Vader suspects that she is also from the future, tied to his grandson in some way, but she remains an unknown.

Vader had seen his son’s face as he boarded the ship, he had looked pained. He had felt his emotions rolling off of him through the Force, the boy had no shields at all, he’d been conflicted to be sure. Part of the boy had clearly wanted to stay, so why had he gone? There will be time for such questions later; first Vader needs to find where they are going.

There is still so much of the visions his grandson had shown him that Vader needs to sort through. There had been a temple, somewhere of significance to the man in his youth. Vader had gathered a location from the man’s mind - Yavin IV, a small moon in the Gordian Reach. A place of seeming insignificance tucked away in the Outer Rim - a good location for a Rebel base, perhaps? The man and his mother had looked on at statues of the Organas in the memory, surely _heroes_ of the Rebellion, and Vader knows that his daughter is a member of the Rebellion…

Does the Rebellion win? Impossible, surely. How could a small band of insurgents take on and defeat an empire? Vader would never allow it to happen, will never allow chaos to reign as it had during the days of the Republic when the government was polluted by the Jedi and the Senate was corrupted by greed and inaction - but, Vader is dead in his grandson’s future. Is it possible? Another reason he must find his family, his grandson will have such answers; will tell Vader how he can change the future.

He enters the nearest intact hangar and boards an unoccupied TIE fighter. No one prepares the ship for him, he never really needs them too, he can run pre-flight checks himself when necessary.

No one asks Vader why he requests departure from hangar 324 or where he is going. He answers to no one on this battle station. His master will surely have questions, but that can be handled once his family is with him once again.

He lands the TIE fighter in the hangar bay of the _Devastator_ and exits the ship without a word. Vaguely, he recognizes the officer trying to keep up with him, trying to speak with him. Apparently, the command aboard the DS-1 battle station have been trying to get ahold of him, but he had destroyed is commlink. He does not much care what they want from him. Vader’s left arm shoots out and the officer flies into the wall of the hallway leading to the ship’s bridge. He does not know if he has killed the man, nor does he care.

“Set a course for the Yavin system.” Vader commands to the admiral in control of the bridge.

Admiral Montferrat’s back is to him and he startles at the sound of his voice, quickly turning on his heel to face Vader. His mouth sets into a tight line, his brows drawing together, contorting the scar that mars his face.

“Of course, right away, Lord Vader.” He says, dipping into a respectful bow.

“Lord Vader.” A voice from behind him sounds.

Vader turns slowly, his anger running high and his patience dangerously low. Another officer, young with frightened eyes, though she tries, and fails, to hide her fear behind a stiff upper lip. Vader does not speak but does wait for the officer to continue.

“Grand Moff Tarkin requests your presence aboard the Death Star immediate –”

The young officer begins choking on her words and frantically clawing at the invisible hands griping her throat. Vader does not even bother to raise his arm, just curls the fingers of his right hand into an open fist.

“I will be in my meditation chamber and I am not to be disturbed until we reach the Yavin system or the _Millenium Falcon_ has been spotted and captured.”

Vader releases his hold on the officer’s throat just enough for them to rasp out a response past the Force choke.

“Of – Of course, Lord Vader.”

Vader releases the woman who falls to her knees like the pitiful creature she is. Vader strides past the woman towards where his hyperbaric chamber is housed. He cannot be sure that his family will be traveling to Yavin IV, but it is as good a place as any to start looking, and something in the Force ensures him that it is the right decision. He will find them, and, this time, they will not escape him when he does.

* * *

When Kylo leaves the cockpit, he means to head for the crew cabins, ready to lie down and sink deep into an uncomfortable bunk, to close his eyes and close out the world. He knows that he will not be able to escape the swirling thoughts of his failure, though when has he ever been able to? The memory of his pitiful display in the cell on the Death Star hangs over him even now and he knows it will only get worse if he tries to give in to sleep, but he’s just so _tired_.

Still, as he enters the _Falcon_ ’s main corridor, he feels small, gentle hands on his back guiding him towards the semi-circular seat around the dejarik table in the lounge. He knows without looking that it is Rey. She gingerly pushes him down into the seat.

“Stay right here,” She says with a soft pat to his good shoulder.

Kylo nods but says nothing. He doesn’t watch her as she leaves the lounge, doesn’t look as the others slowly start to filter in. His gaze is trained on the ground, on his feet. His limbs are heavy, leaden, as are his eyelids. Rey’s Force healing had done him a world of good, but it is all catching up to him very quickly.

He feels rather than sees his uncle sit down on the seat across from him. Doubt, fear and uncertainty are still rolling off of Luke in the Force, assaulting Kylo’s senses. He really should have Rey teach the man to shield himself – though that is not exactly her strong suit either. Leia sits down next to her brother and Kylo can barely hear them mumbling something to one another quietly, perhaps desperate not to break the silence of the post-rapture quiet in the ship.

Rey returns with a small medkit. She places the kit down on the holoboard table and pulls out a well-used jar of bacta and a roll of bandages.

“This isn’t necessary.” He says listlessly. He’s recovered from a good deal of injuries, many of them much worse than these, without any kind of medical treatment. She didn’t need to play nurse for him, to… take care of him. “It’s nothing.”

“Hush,” She says softly, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

Kylo’s heart rate increases to what must be a dangerous speed as she reaches for the hem of his shirt and begins to pull it over his head, shooting him an annoyed look when he doesn’t lift his arms to make her job a bit easier. He puts one pitifully shaking hand on top of hers to stop her, ignoring how his skin tingles at the contact.

“I can’t very well dress your wounds with your shirt on.” She says, shaking his hand off. “Stop being a baby.”

Kylo bristles at her words. No one speaks to him like that, well, no one but her. He wants to growl that he is _not_ being a baby, that he does _not_ want her to dress his wounds – especially not with an audience! She shoots him with a gaze which brokers no argument, so he says nothing and allows her to continue stripping him of his tunic.

The cold, recycled ship air hits his skin and he feels so _exposed_. He’s so used to hiding beneath layers and layers of fabric and armor that even wearing just the tunic and trousers had felt a bit like he was walking around in his underthings. Now though, he’s half naked, bare and vulnerable for all to see. He shivers and not just from the cold air.

Rey dips two fingers into the viscous, blue substance and rubs a bit very tenderly into the wound on his shoulder. He flinches at the contact, not because it is painful, though it is, a bit. The bacta is warm and it fills the angry burn with instant relief. After applying a healthy amount of the gel-like substance she begins to wrap some of the fabric bandages around and under his shoulder.

Her eyes flick up to his and back down to her work a few times and he can’t help but notice the pink blush rising on her cheeks. He remembers their Force connection after a particularly strenuous round of training, how affected she had been by the sight of him without a shirt. He had known before that, that she’d felt the connection between them, the bizarre magnetic pull, but it was that connection that confirmed that her attraction might also stem from something beyond the Force, as his does.

“That’s gonna scar.” Han says striding up behind Rey as she begins applying bacta to the long slicing wound on the side of his arm.

The pilot leans back on the engineering station across from the rounded bench, his arms crossed over his chest, a lazy, easy smile on his face despite everything they’ve all just gone through. Kylo stiffens under Han’s gaze, feeling even more uncomfortable than before, if that was possible. The smugglers eyes roam, taking in the scars that cover Kylo’s arms and torso and face.

“Looks like you’re pretty used to that though, huh?”

Kylo can feel the scar on his side twitch as Han’s eyes land on it, the one he’d gotten from Chewbacca’s bowcaster after… His mind shuts down the memory on instinct. Rey looks up at him as she begins bandaging the wound on his arm. He wonders if she knows what he was thinking of, if she could sense it, if she’s thinking about it too.

She looks down to the deep cut on his right thigh and Kylo shakes his head.

“I’m not taking off my pants.” He says firmly, the tips of his ears heating up embarrassingly. “I can –”

He starts to stand, taking the bandages and bacta in his hand, he reaches down on the ground for his shirt, eager to be clothed again, when Rey grabs his writs to stop him.

“Wait,” She starts, craning her neck to look back at the pilot. “Han, do you have any extra clothes Ben could borrow?”

“What?” Han scoffs at the same time Kylo practically shouts “No!”

“Ben, your shirt is practically in tatters, it would only be until –”

“No,” He repeats firmly and with all of the finality he can muster.

He rips his hand from her grasp and grabs his _tattered_ shirt from the ground. He stands, pushing past Rey as he stalks towards the small, closet-sized refresher.

What was she thinking? He won’t, he can’t wear that man’s clothes. His hands are practically vibrating with frustration and anger as he strips off his trousers and begins applying the bacta to the cut on his leg, as he wraps a bandage around his thigh. He can feel her gently prod at him through the bond and he throws his shields up. He needs to be _alone_.

There is something burning inside of him, testing him, his resolve. It’s the Light, he knows it. The Light that is always present, the Light that he has tried and failed to kill, to destroy, but now - it’s so much stronger than it has been in years. He’d felt it when Rey healed him, like it was waking, like she was healing _it_ and, in turn, destroying him. He can feel it grate against the darkness in his soul, the two incompatible forces that threaten to tear him apart.

He stands in the refresher for a long while trying to focus on nothing but his breathing, one hand pressed against the cold durasteel wall, the other clenching into a tight fist and then relaxing over and over. He can’t stay in here forever, he knows, but he is loath to return to the ever-crowding ship full of his family and memories he can’t seem to escape. He knows that Rey wants to speak to him, and that he should speak to her, tell her what happened with Vader, but the idea of revealing his weakness turns in his stomach violently.

He decides to use the sonic while he is still hiding away. It’s not as refreshing as a regular water shower like the one in his quarters back on the _Steadfast_ , he’s not normally one to indulge in luxuries, though that is one he refuses to live without, still the sonic gets the job done and doesn’t upset his bandaging.

When he’s as clean as he can possibly get, he exits the sonic and redresses. He looks at himself in the dirty mirror above the sink. He looks awful, frankly, like death. His skin has taken on an unhealthy pallor and there are dark circles underneath his eyes, though what else is new. His tunic really is in tatters, the left arm sporting two large, singed holes and the hem fraying at the bottom. They’ll have more clothing at the Rebel base though, maybe he can even get a new belt there, he’s still sorely needing one.

He steps out of the refresher and nearly runs headlong into Rey who seems to have just been camped outside of the door waiting for him.

“I’m sorry,” She blurts out. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable, I was just – you were injured and your shirt… I wasn’t thinking.” She’s babbling and not making very much sense at all, still something inside of Kylo softens against his own will and he sighs.

“It’s alright.” He lies. Everything in his life is far from alright, but, again, what else is new?

Rey shifts uncomfortably where she stands, one hand toying with one edge of the piece of fabric crisscrossed over her tunic.

“Thank you for telling me the coordinates for the Rebel base.”

“It’s where we needed to go next.” He says, uncertain why she is thanking him at all. “Though I hardly expected you to make the jump from inside the hangar, where did you learn to do that anyway?”

“Oh, um, a flight simulator. I used to run them a lot on Jakku.” It is an obvious lie, even without the Force, but the look in her eyes tells him that he doesn’t want to know. It’s exactly the kind of move he would expect Han Solo to pull, after all. It was one of the reasons he had been so surprised that _she_ had done it.

“And when did you learn to Force heal?” He asks, changing the subject slightly. The question has been burning at the back of his mind since she’d done it back on the Death Star.

“I didn’t.” This, he can sense, is not a lie at all. “I mean, it’s something I’ve read about, but I’ve never actually done it before.” A small puff of air leaves her mouth and her lips quirk into a bemused smile. “And I’ve tried, believe me, but, back there… I just – I don’t know, it just happened.”

Out of nowhere her shoulders sink and her face falls. He can feel guilt radiate off of her through the bond and, for a terrible moment, he thinks she is feeling it about healing him. She must sense this in return, because her eyes snap up to his quickly.

“No – it’s not that!” She assures him. “It’s just,” She sighs, her eyes falling to the floor. “If I’d known I could do that I could have healed Obi Wan, I could have saved him.”

“But you didn’t know.” Kylo says, shaking his head.

She nods sadly, understanding the truth, but not really accepting it, he feels. He can still feel the heavy burden of responsibility and shame weighing her down, it mimics his own and reminds him of his earlier failure, one that he is sure will prove to be much worse.

“Rey,” He starts, gripping both of her arms firmly. She looks up at him, her eyes shining with remorse. “I – ” But he can’t make the words come out. They stick, lodged in his throat, choking him. He lets go of her and slides down the curved off-white paneling of the main corridor walls. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, pressing hard until he sees stars. “I – I broke, Rey.” He says and it comes out in a thick watery sob because, of course, he can always find some way to be more pathetic.

“What are you talking about?” She asks. He can hear her kneel beside him, can feel the tentative hand on his shoulder, can feel her _pity._ Normally, it would make him want to spit, but he’s not even angry. He can’t even find the anger in him, normally so within reach.

“I wasn’t strong enough; I never have been.” His voice is almost too soft for his own ears, but he knows that Rey has heard him, he knows from the way her grip on his shirt tightens. “Vader, he… he knows.” He confesses. At least he can be strong enough to admit his weakness outright, to reveal that he broke, caved in under Vader’s torture, revealed everything and then some.

“He knows?” She asks, the horror clear in her hushed tone. “What does he know, Ben?”

“Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter and the next are pretty transitional ones, we've got some big stuff coming up and it's going to require a lot of set up - I'm pretty excited to get there, myself! 
> 
> So, Vader's kids, his poor, innocent angels 😇, have clearly been TRICKED by his naughty grandson into leaving him - what's a Sith dad to do? Well, go and get 'em! Luckily, that very same grandson (unwillingly) gave him a hint as to where they might be headed - lucky break, that one! And what does Tarkin want to talk to Vader about? It's probably nothing! Poor Rey, she's trying to be the best Jedi girlfriend she can, but Kylo's in a pretty bad place!
> 
> I cannot express just how much I appreciate the kind comments and kudos and bookmarks - they make me unreasonably happy! So, thank you all so, so much! I appreciate every single one of you! 💕💕💕 Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	11. Tarkin, the Great and Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grand Moff Tarkin strides into the room and the rest of the command stands, respectful of the man’s title and ranking in both the Empire and on the station. Tarkin stops and stands in front of his chair, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks very displeased, though Motti’s not sure if he’s ever seen the Grand Moff look pleased, or even anywhere close to it – maybe after the first successful test of the weapon’s systems on Jheda. A glorious day for the Empire, even if it was followed by the embarrassment of Scarif, a disaster of Krennic’s design.
> 
> “Lord Vader will not be joining us, it seems.” Tarkin says sharply before sitting, the rest of the command quickly following suit.
> 
> \---
> 
> Luke has a nightmare, Tarkin gets a talking down, Vader's MIA, and Kylo & Rey get some much needed rest!

Luke watches as Ben storms out of the _Falcon_ ’s lounge, his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed red, whether it is from anger or embarrassment, Luke cannot tell. Though, when it comes to Ben, Luke thinks that the former is the safest guess. Rey seems equally flustered as she rises to follow him not a moment after he is gone from sight.

Han doesn’t seem bothered by either of their departures. He shakes his head lazily before returning to the cockpit of the ship. Luke wonders how Han can possibly be so calm after _everything_ that’s just happened, but he realizes quickly that Han might actually be used to this level of excitement, danger, and action. Luke’s not sure he wants to know what that’s like.

Luke has spent his whole life daydreaming about adventure, about flying ships, pulling off dangerous maneuvers, running daring missions just like the one he is on now… only, now it all seems a bit overrated - well, that might not be the right word, but Luke nearly _died_ several times today and that fact alone is sufficient to cool the adrenaline that had fueled his escape from the Death Star.

He had very nearly been killed _and_ he had left his father behind. He’s still not sure what exactly possessed him to shoot the door control panel, locking his father out of the hangar. Maybe it had been fear? There had been so much fear all around him and he’s not entirely sure it was all his own.

Luke’s not sure if he’s afraid of his father, the man had been perfectly accommodating to him, nice even, but he knows that someone was afraid, or maybe it was many someones. It was like he could feel the emotions of every single trooper and officer and person in the hangar and it had been a very confusing feeling, indeed. What he had felt rolling off of his father, that ice-cold rage and hate, that _had_ scared Luke.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Luke?” The princess, Leia, asks from where she is seated to his right. She’d come over to check on him as they all filtered from the cockpit into the lounge. Luke still can’t believe that a real-life princess, a _princess_ , is talking to him - she even kissed him! Well, on the cheek, but that still counts.

“Yeah, I’m - I’ll be okay.” He says trying to be as honest as possible. He looks at his fidgeting hands for a moment before looking over at her. Her large, warm brown eyes are on him and he almost forgets what he was going to ask her. “That, uh, that masked man…”

“Vader,” Leia says, her face darkening. The name sends a chill down Luke’s spine, but maybe it’s just from the way the princess says it.

“Vader,” He repeats. The name feels strange in his mouth. “That’s his… name?” Luke is confused, he’s always been told that his father’s name was Anakin Skywalker, that, at least, has been a fairly consistent thread in what he’s been told. Leia nods.

“He’s the Emperor’s attack dog.” She says with a sneer. “He would have destroyed us all if you hadn’t stopped him, that was quick thinking, Luke.” She smiles as she places a hand on his shoulder.

Luke tries to smile at her words and gentle contact, but he finds that he can’t. He doesn’t want to believe that his father would have killed them all. Certainly, he wouldn’t have killed Luke, right? He had thought that Luke’s friends were his captors, and Luke’s still not sure, exactly, what his father had meant when he’d said that they were being ‘dealt with’, though it had definitely sounded ominous. Instead of smiling, he finds himself frowning deeply.

“He - did _that_ to Ben?” Luke asks, his head turning in the direction Ben had limped off in.

“He did.” Leia confirms with a shallow nod. “He would have tortured me, too, if Ben hadn’t…” She trails off, her head also turning towards the hallway he had stalked down only a few minutes ago.

Luke doesn’t have anything to say after that and, apparently, neither does the princess. The silence that settles on the lounge is not a comfortable one, it is heavy. It weighs down Luke’s arms and legs and eyelids. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep, though it is not a particularly restful one.

Luke dreams that his father is bearing down on him, red lightsaber in hand, raspy mechanical breathing echoing around in the formless void of Luke’s dreamscape.

“Join me.” His father says, extending one gloved hand. The words clatter around in Luke’s subconscious, growing in volume until his head is screaming from the sound.

Then, Luke sees himself. He’s dressed all in black, his hair is darker, still blond, but no longer bleached light by the sun, it’s cut shorter as well, neatly framing his face. He looks tired and pale, dark circles hang under his eyes - eyes that glow a bright yellow. Leia is there too, on her knees. She looks up at him, her dark eyes pleading. Luke holds a lightsaber by her neck, his face impassive.

“Kill her,” A voice Luke does not recognize commands.

“Hey, kid,” A voice Luke _does_ recognize pulls him from the nightmare. Luke’s eyes fly open and he looks around frantically. He’s still in the _Falcon_. Han is watching him from the threshold to the main corridor, Leia seems to have fallen asleep at one point as well, her head rests on Luke’s shoulder. There’s nothing to be afraid of here, still, Luke’s heart is pounding. “You okay?” The pilot quirks his eyebrow in what, Luke guesses, passes as concern for Han.

“Bad dream.” Luke says sounding breathless. He feels like he’s just run all the way from his house to Tosche Station.

“Yeah, I guessed. You were twitching and muttering about something.” Han says with a shrug. He eyes Leia on Luke’s shoulder suspiciously and frowns. “You people do know the ship’s got a whole cabin full of bunks, right?”

“Yes,” Leia answers through a yawn, apparently having been awoken by the conversation. “Ben and Rey are there now, I think.”

“Oh,” The pilot rolls his eyes and smirks. “I can see why you’re all out here then. Thought the girl’d at least wait until he was healed up a bit before she jumped him, but…”

“Oh, don’t be crude, they’re just sleeping.” Leia shakes her head as she peels herself away from Luke and stands, stretching.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” Han chuckles.

“I’m going to go check on them, actually, see if maybe they’re hungry.” She says as she brushes by Han who watches her until she rounds the corner.

“She’s a real piece of work, huh?” Han asks, turning his attention on Luke once the princess is out of sight.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Luke says with a shrug.

Luke tries to settle back in the only slightly uncomfortable seat surrounding the holoboard, but his hands are still shaking slightly. He closes his eyes, just for the calm that the darkness brings, but his eyes fly open once Leia’s words click in his mind. She’s going to go wake up Rey and - _Ben_? He jumps up from the seat and races to catch up with the princess before she makes the same mistake he’d made the other day.

“Wait!” He calls after her. “Princess - _Leia_!”

* * *

The air in the northern polar conference room is tense, to say the least. Admiral Conan Antonio Motti looks around at his fellow officers, admirals, chiefs and generals in the Death Star command. A few of the gentlemen tap nervously on the shining, black, oval table.

They are waiting. The two highest ranking members of their command are still not present. Motti picks up the cup in front of him and sips on the cool water, less to quench his thirst and more for something to do.

Grand Moff Tarkin strides into the room and the rest of the command stands, respectful of the man’s title and ranking in both the Empire and on the station. Tarkin stops and stands in front of his chair, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks _very_ displeased, though Motti’s not sure if he’s ever seen the Grand Moff look pleased, or even anywhere close to it – maybe after the first successful test of the weapon’s systems on Jedha. A glorious day for the Empire, even if it was followed by the embarrassment of Scarif, a disaster of Krennic’s design.

“Lord Vader will not be joining us, it seems.” Tarkin says sharply before sitting, the rest of the command quickly following suit.

Motti is almost disappointed. He’s never even seen the man, though he has heard stories. Stories of his powers, of his influence, of his rage – but that’s all they are, _stories_ , like the ones used by parents to scare their pathetic children into behaving. Motti was never afraid of those kinds of fables as a child and he will not allow himself to be cowed by such ridiculous tales now, tales of the dark Lord Vader and his _‘sorcerer’s ways’._ Motti is no fool, nor is he a coward. He wants to see the man to prove that he is just that, a man, and nothing more.

“Colonel Yularen,” Tarkin begins again, turning to face the colonel. His tone is still clipped, but decidedly less angry. “I understand you have some information on the prisoner’s escape?”

“Yes, Moff Tarkin,” The colonel begins, both looking and sounding rather pleased with himself. “We’ve placed a tracking beacon on the prisoner’s ship, we only need follow the signal they are beaming to us, and I am certain they will lead us directly to the Rebel Alliance base. We can -”

“And why, pray tell, did you decided to put a tracking fob on the prisoner’s ship? A ship bound for incineration?” Tarkin asks, his blue eyes sharp and cold as durasteel.

“Uh - I-It was a precaution, Grand Moff, I only thought…” The colonel looks around now, confusion and horror written plainly on his face. Surely, he’d thought he would be commended, awarded for his actions, not questioned on his intentions.

“You only thought, what, Colonel Yularen? Is your faith in this station’s security really so low?”

“Of - of course not, Grand Moff. I only…”

Motti knows what the man must be feeling. It wasn’t as if prisoners never escaped. In fact, the prisoners had, indeed, escaped, and the colonel’s thinking, whether it was lack of faith or no, may lead them to the Rebel base they have been searching for. Still, to present such a thing with pride… a fool’s mistake. Motti smiles, wondering if there will be a colonel’s position open in the future, not that he’s interested, of course. Motti already outranks the old fool.

“Well, it would seem that your lack of faith is our good fortune.” Tarkin says, cutting off the colonel’s pathetic stammering. “Where are the escaped prisoners headed?”

“ We believe they are headed for the Yavin system, sir.” The colonel says with a quiet firmness. He looks up from the table only to meet the Grand Moff’s eyes in a show of deference and respect that is required of lower ranking officers.

“Very well then,” Tarkin says with a sharp nod. “We will set a course for the Yavin system after the display of this weapon’s full potential on Alderaan.”

“But sir!” General Hurst Romodi sits up, shaking his head in disagreement. “All due respect, Moff Tarkin, but the longer we wait to attack the Rebels, the longer we give them to mount a defense against us – or plan an evacuation. The hyperspeed drive on this station is quite slow and they have a significant lead on us already.”

“Are you truly worried about an attack on this battle station, General?” Tarkin asks with a sneer. “Our defenses are impenetrable.”

“The rebels have surely received the information stolen from the archives on Scarif by now.” Chief Major Cass pipes in, sounding nervous, perhaps for reminding the Grand Moff of their recent embarrassment, or perhaps just to be talking at all. “The longer they have to look over that information, the larger of an advantage they will have.”

“They have no advantage at all!” Tarkin snaps, his cold eyes staring daggers at the man. “They are a small group of insurgents, not a military operation. Any attack on this station would certainly be a slaughter.”

“Still,” General Moradmin Bast begins. “Would it not be best for us to go take out the Rebel base first?”

“A singular gas giant with a cluster of moons in the Outer Rim is hardly a proper demonstration of this battle station’s full might, General Bast.” Motti says earning himself a nod from the Grand Moff. “The pathetic _Rebellion_ stands no chance against us and with the proper display of force and power, we can ensure that no systems dare oppose us in the future.”

“Precisely, Admiral Motti.” Tarkin says with what may pass as a smile for the Grand Moff. Motti can feel the smirk spreading on his face and does nothing to stop it. He knows how to play the game, always has, it’s not his fault if the rest of command doesn’t know what’s good for them.

“I will hear no further argument on this matter, we shall -”

Tarkin’s voice is cut off by the blue, flickering glow of a hologram lighting up the room. The image of Emperor Palpatine hovers just over the conference table. The Emperor is sitting on his throne on Coruscant, his scarred and deformed face covered mostly by the hood of the black robe he wears.

Motti has seen the Emperor only once before, at the party at the Imperial Palace on Empire Day a few years ago. He hadn’t been an Admiral at the time, so he’d not had the chance to actually speak with the man. He remembers the Emperor then, weak as he seems, exuded a kind of intangible power. Motti bows his head in reverence now, the others in the conference room do the same.

“Grand Moff,” The Emperor begins, his voice filling the room and sending shivers down Motti’s spine. “Where is Lord Vader?”

“It would seem that Lord Vader did not find it pertinent to join us for this meeting, your Imperial Majesty.” Tarkin says, lowering his head only slightly, his eyes never leaving the translucent form of the Emperor. “He left only moments ago on his personal star destroyer.”

“And where has he gone?” Motti can feel the Emperor’s anger like it is physical thing, like it is in the room with them.

“He did not say, your Imperial Majesty.”

“It has come to my attention that we have located the Rebel base, is that so?”

“We may have,” Tarkin agrees slowly. Motti lifts his eyes to see the Grand Moff glower at the colonel. He does suppress his smile this time, not eager to draw attention to himself.

“And are we in pursuit?”

“We will be, as soon as we’ve displayed the full potential of this battle station for the whole galaxy to -”

“Grand Moff,” The Emperor begins, his voice like ice. Motti physically shivers in his seat at the sound. “Take care that your personal interests do not interfere with the good of the Empire.” Motti watches with a sort of horrified glee as the Grand Moff’s face turns stoney. “Pursue these Rebels, find their base and destroy it. Be rid of this pitiful insurgence once and for all.”

“Of course, your Imperial Majesty. We will set a course for the Yavin system immediately.” Tarkin responds, his voice low, a deep frown on his face.

“Good, good.” The Emperor says with wicked glee before his hologram flickers out and he is gone.

* * *

Kylo finds that he cannot speak much more after revealing the depths of his failure, his throat is too tight, his lips won’t move, even as he tries to answer Rey’s questions. Luckily, he doesn’t need to speak out loud to communicate with her.

“What happens now?” Rey asks, her voice soft, which is good. Kylo is fairly sure that no one else can hear them where they are, but the absolute _last_ thing he needs right now is anyone overhearing them talk about the future – that would open up far too many conversations that he would actually rather never wish to have.

 _I don’t know_. He projects the answer to her, lets it slide across the golden thread of their bond. _I just… I have no idea._

He runs his hands through his hair in an effort to bury his face further in his arms. He wants to curl up and in on himself. He wants to open his eyes and find that he is back in the conference room on the _Steadfast_ , Hux staring at him with barely concealed disdain, and find that this has all just been a very bizarre, terrible dream, that he has not altered the past so horribly and irrevocably.

 _Well,_ Rey begins, her tone unfailingly gentle even in his head. _What happened last time? What is supposed to happen? Let’s start there._

Why is she being so kind to him? Taking care of him, _kissing_ him? What has changed? His thoughts spin between confusion and the horror of his mistakes and he feels like his head is going to explode – and that’s not even to mention the Light that is threatening to burn him from the inside out.

He's so unforgivably _weak_ , he always has been. How could he ever think differently? What had Snoke ever seen in him? _Raw, untamed power_? What power? He is a miserable, wretched creature not worthy of the power of the Force with which he was bestowed. All he has ever been, all he will ever be, is a pathetic boy, a child, toddling along in the shadows of giants, heroes, and legends.

 _Ben_ , she prompts and, vaguely, he wonders if she can hear his thoughts. His shields are nearly fully down, but he doesn’t particularly care right now. It’s nothing she doesn’t already know, nothing that everyone who sees him doesn’t already realize immediately.

 _The Battle of Yavin, surely even you’ve heard of that?_ He adds with as much venom as he can muster. Maybe if he can direct some of that poison outward, he can ease the pain inside. It doesn’t work and he winces as he feels Rey internally bristle at his words.

 _I have,_ She agrees stiffly.

He can feel the anger and frustration rising in her, boiling just under the surface. He closes his eyes again in shame. He’s been such a _mess_ and she’s been the one holding it all together. She’s so much stronger than he is, but he’s known that for a long time.

 _I_ – He slides a wordless apology along the bond, hoping that how he feels can say more than his words ever could. _The Death Star should arrive in the Yavin system, but I don’t know why. I don’t know why it happened last time. They never told me – they never told me_ anything! His hands tighten into fists in his hair, pulling at the roots painfully, but he’s glad of that. It’s the distracting kind of pain.

 _So, maybe things don’t go exactly as they did last time._ He can tell that she is trying to be reassuring, but her words turn his stomach and he feels like he is going to be sick. _We’ll figure it out. We’ll get to the Rebel base and figure… something out._

Kylo has nothing to say to that. He stands when Rey drags him up by the arm, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. He grips at his side, the agitated ribs throbbing as Rey drags him towards the crew cabin. He doesn’t protest when she lies him down on one of the lower bunks, it is only when she turns, moves to walk away that his hand shoots out and grabs her forearm.

“Stay,” He begs pitifully. He can already feel sleep closing in, his mind is foggy, but he can feel the dark nightmares swirling around just behind his eyelids, waiting for unconsciousness. “ _Please_.”

He’s not sure what he expects her to do. Maybe she’ll just pretend that she didn’t hear him, his voice had been low enough. He wouldn’t blame her if that’s what she chose, how could he? Perhaps that would be for the best anyway.

She does stay. She turns and scooches onto the bed next to him, in the small sliver of space that is left unoccupied. He shifts over, his eyes wide with surprise simply because this is _happening_. She lays her head down on one of his arms and, cautiously he pulls the free arm around her torso, pulling her flush to him.

She stays and blesses him with peaceful, dreamless sleep. Kylo wakes hours later to the sound of voices in the hall.

“What, Luke? I’m just going to…” It sounds like Leia is right outside of the cabins, her voice only slightly muffled from the closed door between them.

“You’re up?” Rey asks, her words slightly slurred as she wakes.

“Mmhm.” Kylo agrees languidly, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“I’m telling you, Le – Princess, it’s really not a good idea.” Luke’s voice joins the sound of his sister’s outside of the crew cabins. Kylo can feel his muscles tense, these are the last people he wants here _now_. “Ben is – he’s really jumpy when you wake him up.”

“We’re already up.” Rey calls to the voices outside.

The door to the cabins slides open, Luke stands silhouetted in the threshold. Rey wriggles out of Kylo’s grasp and stands. He wants to stop her, but doesn’t, he’s already asked too much of her.

“Leia just wanted to see if you guys were alright, if you wanted anything to eat.”

“Alright, thanks, Luke, we’ll be out soon.”

Luke leaves and the door slides closed behind him. Kylo swings his long legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the floor and sighs. His body protests the movement, every joint in his body cracks and creaks, an orchestra of discomfort, the left side of his chest still throbs painfully.

“How are you feeling?” Rey asks, her voice soft in the quiet darkness of the cabins. Kylo rests his forearms on his knees and looks up at her. It’s almost too dark to see, but he can just make out her face as his eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

“I’ve felt worse.” He says and it is the absolute truth.

He watches Rey consider him for a long, silent moment. He wonders what she is thinking – he always wonders that. He can feel impressions, hints through the bond and he _could_ slide along their connection and really find out, just a simple brush against her mind, but no. He won’t do that.

“I’ll just – meet you outside?” She says but it sounds like a question.

Kylo just nods quietly and, luckily, she sees even in the darkness. She leaves him alone and it is quiet, so, so quiet. All Kylo can hear is his breathing, a slow inhale and exhale.

What now? Next should be the battle of Yavin, something he’d once marked as, hopefully, the end of his and Rey’s journey through time, but now? He has no idea what happens now. As far as he knows, Alderaan is still… around. Not blown up, undestroyed. Will the Empire send the Death Star to Yavin now? Why had they last time? He buries his face in his hands and groans lowly in despair.

“Ben?” It’s Leia’s voice.

Instantly, Kylo’s head snaps up. She is standing in the doorway of the cabins, silhouetted by the light in the hallway. He can only see the shape of her, a dark shadow haloed by yellowish artificial light. He is glad that he can’t make out any of her features. It’s so much harder to look at her than the others.

“Are you alright?” She continues. Her voice is so full of concern. He can picture the way her dark brows knit together, the way her mouth purses when she’s worried - worried about him.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He lies. It’s a lie that he has told his mother a thousand times before.

“You don’t have to lie.” She says stepping into the dark room. He can see her now, though she is in shadows, dark smudges stain her white dress, the large buns on either side of her face are coming loose. Thankfully, she doesn’t press him any further on his lie. “Thank you.” She says, sounding far too shy for Leia Organa.

“What?” What was there to thank him for? After everything he’s done, after everything he’s done to _her_.

“For – protecting me, back in the cell. Vader was going to…” She trails off, her eyes searching the dark room for something, or maybe nothing at all.

“It was… nothing.” He says, his mouth uncomfortably dry. He looks down at his feet not knowing where else to look.

“Not to me.” She says, and her tone is so blunt, so demanding attention that his eyes snap up to hers, they burn with meaning, even in the darkness. He inherited those dark, expressive eyes, windows into emotions their owners can never hide behind their masks of diplomacy, rage, or metal.

Kylo can think of nothing to say to this woman, the princess, his enemy in another life, his mother, so he simply nods and stands and follows her to the lounge.

Kylo and Rey take turns watching the ship’s controls while Han and Chewbacca rest in the cabins, preparing for their arrival in a few standard hours. Neither He nor Rey trust the three AIs the ship’s computer consists of, the constantly bickering personalities, to rely solely on the craft’s autopilot.

They land at the base of the temple. The first thing that Kylo notices as he steps out onto the _Falcon_ ’s gangway is the oppressive heat and humidity. It assaults him from all angles. He’d _almost_ forgotten about it – almost been able to forget is more like it, though after thirteen years on this Force-forsaken rock he’s quite sure that he’ll never be able to truly forget.

Luke had not used the Great Temple as the location of his Jedi school, no that temple was a ways away from here, or, it will be – time travel is actually quite confusing. Still, Kylo had been here many times in his youth. A few times as a young child, traveling with his parents to meet up with old friends from the Rebellion, watching the older people reminisce about long-fallen friends, and later on the few occasions his mother would visit him at Luke’s temple.

He shouldn’t be shocked that it looks different than he remembers, but he is anyway. Of course, there will be fewer people milling about in the future and not nearly as many ships hanging around the hangar. He steps onto the planet and it feels like he is stepping back into his youth.

Kylo is surprised, to say the least, by just whom their small welcome party consists of. Bail Organa clad in blue robes and Mon Mothma, dressed in all white, per usual, walk side by side, the former beaming with pride and, surely, relief at his daughter. The two Rebel Alliance leaders are followed closely by R2D2 and C-3PO.

“Father!” Leia sighs as she strides with what is surely all the calm she can muster towards her father, wrapping her arms around the much taller man. Bail returns her embrace with warmth, whispering something to his daughter that Kylo cannot hear.

A few Rebel soldiers carrying scanners brush past Kylo and Rey. One of them bumps into Rey’s shoulder and Kylo glares at them as they ascend the ramp of the _Falcon_.

“Hey!” Han calls after the soldiers, chasing them up the ramp. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“They are simply scanning your ship for trackers, it is standard procedure for any ships escaping Imperial custody, I assure you.” Mon Mothma says, her voice soft and calm. Han is not mollified in the slightest by her assurances.

“If they touch _anything_ on my ship, I swear…” The man’s grumbling voice trails off as he stalks off into the bowls of the ship.

“Artoo!” Luke cries out upon seeing the astromech droid rolling towards them. “Threepio!”

Luke kneels beside the small droid, laying one hand on its domed head. R2D2 warbles happily upon seeing Kylo’s uncle as C-3PO waddles up awkwardly beside them.

“Master Luke,” The golden protocol droid begins, sounding more distressed than usual. “You have no idea what we have been through since you left!” The droid says, sounding almost accusatory. “We ran through a blockade!”

“I didn’t _leave_ , Threepio.” Luke says, shaking his head and laughing lightly.

“I’m simply not cut out for that kind of excitement.” The droid says, clearly ignoring Luke entirely.

“I’ll remember that for next time, Threepio.” Luke chuckles as he stands and pats the droid’s metal shoulder.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Organa.” Kylo says, remembering bitterly Bail’s protestations about leaving Alderaan.

“Well, the Empire cut off our transmission before the plans finished going through - the line was rather less secured than we’d thought, unfortunately.” Bail glowers at nothing particular before continuing. “I escorted the droid here, myself.”

“And you made it through the Imperial blockade?”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t easy.” Bail frowns. “But with a few risky maneuvers on our pilot’s end, we were able to make it in one piece… mostly.” He adds with a tight smile. “But what matters is that the information has been delivered to the Alliance - and you have delivered my daughter to me.” Bail has one arm slung over Leia’s shoulders and pulls her tighter to him for a quick moment. “For that you have my thanks, and Breha’s as well.”

“Where is mother?” Leia asks, looking up at her father. Her eyes flicking around the base, searching every passing face for her mother, the mother that, in another lifetime, is already lost to her – not that she is aware of that.

“Your mother is - she’s still on Alderaan.” Bail says. Leia’s eyes widen just a fraction, but it’s enough for Kylo to see just how frightened she is. “She couldn’t leave her people, but she is safe.” Leia closes her eyes and nods with sad understanding.

“No one on Alderaan is safe, not while -”

“The Death Star left the Alderaan system seventeen standard hours ago.” Mon Mothma says, her voice calm. Kylo startles, having nearly forgotten she was there. He blinks slowly, trying to absorb the information.

“Is it coming here?” Rey asks from beside him, her hand gripping Kylo’s as she stands beside him, he swallows hard at the contact.

The former senator of Chandrila and future Chancellor of the New Republic looks at Rey, her eyes evaluating, studying. Kylo had always been put off of her quiet, calm nature as a child, it was something a nightmare-riddled boy with the Dark Side swimming in his veins could never relate to, never understand. The woman smiles and Kylo has no idea what kind of assessment she has made, if it’s good or bad or neither.

“We cannot say for sure where the battle station is headed, but we are preparing for the worst, of course.” Mon Mothma says, her eyes flicking over to Bail. “You all are welcome to -”

“Mon Mothma, ma’m.” A Rebel soldier pokes his head out of the _Falcon_. “We found an active tracker.”

“Well, that settles that then.” Mon Mothma says with a sigh, seeming almost relieved by the news. Perhaps the waiting to know if you are going to be attacked is the worst part for her. “Now, who among you can fly an X-Wing?”

Kylo watches Luke’s face light up, he can feel Rey staring at him, can feel her hopes and fears pouring through the bond. The next few hours are pure chaos on the base, and Kylo is lost as to _how_ it happens, but somehow, he, Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, finds himself dressed in a Rebel Alliance flight suit, being briefed on how to destroy the Death Star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, welcome to the stage, your favorite idiot and mine - Admiral Motti! Honestly, as an admiral in the Imperial Navy, it doesn't make much sense that Motti never would have met Vader (the leader of the Imperial Navy), however, I can see no other reason for Motti to give him so much SASS about the Force during that meeting on the Death Star in A New Hope. I mean, really, he was practically begging to be choked. Seriously, I love this guy. He always gives me a good laugh every time I watch ANH, it's such an honor to have written for the man! 😂
> 
> Luke's having a rough go of it, poor guy! He's feeling a lot of conflict over his dad - should he have left him? Should he have stayed? Luke doesn't know! And now with the dreams! Luckily, Skywalker dreams are always just that and absolutely nothing more!
> 
> Kylo's still having a rough go of it too, but he's gotten an much needed nap and got to snuggle with his gf, so things are looking up. This chapter marks a bit of a pause in the (emotional) Ben Solo Pain Train. That particular locomotive will keep on chuggin' eventually, but I think the poor guy needs a bit of a break from emotional trauma, don't you? Haha! 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone for your kudos and bookmarks and your very kind and thoughtful comments, I greatly appreciate every single one! This chapter was a fun one (for me, hopefully for you too) but the next chapter... Looks like everyone's heading to Yavin for the big summer blow out! Either way this party goes, it's bound to be explosive! 😜 Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	12. The Grievous Destruction of Laser Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been hit, my weapons systems are down.” Red Two calls out through the comm. 
> 
> Luke can sense his father nearby, perhaps just behind the two other TIES now. Luke is approaching the target. He pulls down his targeting computer and allows it to begin its calculations. He’s too close to pull back now, he needs to make the shot, no matter what.
> 
> “Pull up, I’ve got it.” Luke assures the other pilot.
> 
> \---
> 
> Kylo's dressed to impress, Bail is stressed, Leia's vexed, Vader's obsessed, and Luke's just trying his best!

“I think orange is your color.” Rey leans over and whispers to Kylo during the debriefing. Jan Dodonna is droning on about the defenses of the DS-1 battle station, which, apparently are tight, but a small, one-maned fighter should be able to break through – something Kylo is already well aware of.

Kylo does not respond, glaring at her through the corners of his eyes, though there is no real malice behind the look. Honestly, he’s much more relaxed now that he _knows_ the Death Star will be arriving any time now. It feels like things are finally getting back on track, and if there’s one thing he can count on the Rebels to do, it’s blow up a giant planet-killing weapon – it’s definitely what they do best.

“Really,” She continues her lips quirking upwards into a mischievous smile. “It’s so much nicer than the depressing black _all the time_.”

“I think we should be paying attention.” Kylo whispers back tersely, adjusting the white flack vest which fits him a little too snugly. He inclines his head towards the speaker.

“An analysis of the plans provided by Princess Leia has demonstrated a weakness in the battle station.” Dodonna continues.

The black and white linear gridded plans zoom in, projecting a close up look at one of the trenches on the Death Star. It strikes Kylo that he was, not very long ago – or, would be, many years in the future from now, depending on how you looked at it – on the other side of a meeting that must have been quite similar to this one. The realization is… odd, to say the least.

“The target area is only two meters wide.”

The crowd gathered audibly groans, some people exchange disbelieving glances. One pilot even grouses that the shot is impossible, even for a computer.

“But it’s not impossible,” Luke says from somewhere behind Kylo. “I used to bull’s-eye womp rats in my T-16 back home. They’re not much bigger than two meters.”

Kylo rolls his eyes at the pure arrogance of the boy. He knows, of course, that the shot is _not_ impossible, especially for Luke Skywalker, but the young farmer has no flight experience outside of flying his rusty old skyhopper over the familiar sands of Tatooine. That’s Luke for you though – never wrong, even when he has every reason in the galaxy to be.

“It's a small thermal exhaust port, right below the main port. The shaft leads directly to the reactor system. A precise hit will start a chain reaction which should destroy the station.”

And that’s it, really. Dodonna continues to ramble on about the weapon’s defenses, a general re-iterates the battle plans for the umpteenth time, but as far as Kylo is concerned, all they need do now is wait. Wait for the Death Star to pop into atmo, jump into their X-Wings and watch history unfold.

Kylo cranes his neck around to look at his uncle. Young with bright eyes and an easy smile, his blond hair, longer than Kylo has ever seen it, flipped up at the ends. He excitedly throws his arms around another man, tall with dark hair and a mustache, seemingly in recognition. However, Kylo is sure that he’s never seen this man before.

These are the last few hours of Luke Skywalker – farm boy from Tatooine. As soon as this battle commences, so long as the events play out as they are supposed to, he will be Luke Skywalker – Rebel hero and then, Luke Skywalker – Jedi Knight.

Kylo’s eyes scan the back of the room, he sees Leia pressed against the wall, a dark, slightly sour look on her face. Her eyes continually dart towards the door on the other end of the room where Han Solo leans against the doorframe, neither inside nor outside of the room. Leia’s father stands beside her. Kylo swallows around nothing.

Bail Organa is alive. Alderaan is intact and the Death Star is on the way to Yavin IV. He looks at the princess again. She is smiling at her father now, an easy, light expression. He thinks that Rey may be saying something to him, but he cannot take his attention away from the Organas who interact comfortably, unawares of what _should_ have happened, what was supposed to happen, what happened last time. Who will his mother be without her tragedy? Who will Leia Organa be without the mountain of impossible losses that threatened, but never managed, to break her indominable spirit?

He sighs deeply. He should tell Bail, shouldn’t he? Tell him that Vader knows, or, that he _probably_ knows that Leia is his daughter. Kylo hadn’t said as much out loud, but from what Vader had seen, surely it would have been simple enough to deduce.

He watches as Leia says something to her father. She does so with a soothing pat to her his arm, yet Kylo can see how Bail’s eyes fly open wide, how his face pales. He whispers something frantically to his daughter who shakes her head, her brows furrowed, and Kylo wishes that he were near enough to hear them.

“Ben,” Rey tugs on his sleeve and he turns his attention back to her. Her eyes are wide and he notices that the pilots around him are scrambling. “Did you hear that?” Her voice is a harsh whisper.

“No, what happened?” He asks looking around, eyes surveying the scene, the chaos unfolding before him.

“There’s a star destroyer in the system, it’s approaching the moon.” She explains, her voice low. “It’s Vader’s _personal_ ship.”

Kylo says nothing but nods sharply. He grabs Rey’s hand and begins pulling her towards Bail Organa. The evacuation of the Rebel base on Yavin IV will need to be moved up and Kylo has some explaining to do.

* * *

Darth Vader’s personal TIE Advanced departs the _Devastator_ ’s hangar bay the moment the star destroyer hits the atmosphere of the small jungle moon of Yavin IV. He is followed closely by a full squadron of TIE fighters, though the pilots split off from his lead as they descend on the moon, all of them in search of a temple or any sign of Rebel activity.

Vader flies low over the thick canopy of trees, he allows the Force to guide his movements. The Force is strong here, which would explain the existence of the ancient temple. Had the Rebellion chosen the location of their base to spite the Sith? If so, it will be their undoing. Once he finds them and his family is back safely in his custody he will personally see to the end of the pathetic Rebellion once and for all.

He reaches out. He can feel his son in the Force, the bright point of Light that is wholly unmistakable to him despite the brevity of their former interaction. He can feel his grandson too, the swirling mixture of Light and Dark, a murky splotch of grey raging in the Force somewhere on the moon. Vader is not sure how the man can stand that level of conflict; it must be tearing him apart.

They are here, which surely means that his daughter is here too, though he cannot feel her presence as acutely. Vader is sure that after all of the trouble his grandson went through to get to her, he will not let the princess out of his sight any time soon.

Vader senses rather than sees the Death Star battle station arrive in the Yavin system. It is like the Force is screaming at him, danger, death, destruction, devastation. Normally, this would not bother him as it does now, though, normally, those warnings form the Force are not intended for his children.

He pulls his TIE up in an instant, pointing towards the sky, breaking through the layers of atmosphere, coursing through the all-encompassing blackness of realspace. He sees the grey monstrosity of a battle station peaking over the other side of the gas giant, luckily, it will need to orbit the planet before it has a clear shot at the small moon – another reason that the weapon is an ineffective waste of time and energy.

Still, the inadequacies of the weapon will be his benefit now. Once, long ago, he had warned Tarkin that the battle station would one day be his tomb, he will ensure the truth of that warning today.

* * *

“Leia,” Her father begins, sounding pained. He does not meet her dark eyes with his own, instead he stares off into the gathered crowd of Alliance pilots. Seeing the information she had been in charge of delivering finally find its purpose fills her with such a warm sense of pride. “You say that you were captured by Vader, did he…” But her father cannot finish.

“No father, he never…” Leia begins, patting her father’s arm in a soothing gesture. She knows how worried he must have been for her safety in the days that she was a prisoner of the Empire, of Vader, how he and her mother must have fretted, so, while she is loath to defend that monster in any way, she will do anything she can to assure her father that no real harm came to her. “He took a blood sample from me, that’s all.”

Her father’s reaction is not at all what she had expected. She had hoped to comfort him, to relieve any lingering worry or guilt he may have felt, but her assurances seem to have had the opposite effect. She can feel her father stiffen beside her and when she looks at his face, it is at least a shade too pale.

“What is it?” She asks him, squeezing his hand with her own. “What’s wrong?”

“Leia, I –” He shakes his head. “Did he say anything to you? Afterwards?”

Leia can feel her brows knit together as she shakes her head, confused as to her father’s sudden, intense interest in her blood being drawn during her time as an Imperial prisoner. At the time, she had assumed that it was some kind of standard protocol, to keep her genetic material on file for… posterity, or something, but now she wonders if it had been something more.

“No,” She says slowly.

She opens her mouth to say something more, to ask her father what he’s thinking about when she is interrupted by a frazzled Rey and a stoic, as usual, Ben.

“Organa,” Ben begins, his attention fully on Leia’s father. Leia scowls at him for his blatant lack of respect for her father as both a former senator and a leader of the Rebel Alliance, not to mention ignoring his title as a prince of Alderaan. “I need to speak with you about something…” Leia watches the man’s vaguely familiar brown eyes flit over in her direction very quickly. “In private, if possible.”

“What are you talking about?” Leia’s father asks, sounding genuinely confused.

“In private?” Leia repeats, truly affronted. What did this man have to say to her father that he couldn’t say in front of her? She moves her arms to cross them over her chest but thinks better of it at the last second.

“It’s about Vader.” He says flatly. Leia does not miss how his eyes flick back to her for just a second. Ice fills Leia’s veins and she frowns deeply. She can feel guilt clawing at her stomach again and suddenly, she very much wants to leave.

“It’s alright, father.” Leia says, placing a hand on her father’s arm. “I’ll meet you in the command room.”

Leia strides out of the meeting room and into one of the hangars, the largest on the base. Mechanics and engineers dressed in olive drab flit from ship to ship, running last minute checks, preparing each craft for take-off. Leia looks down at herself for a moment and wonders if she would have enough time to run for a change of clothes before the battle begins, she has been wearing this same dress for nearly a full standard week now and is eager to be rid of it.

“ _All flight crews, man your stations._ ” A man’s droning voice calls over the speaker system. “ _All flight crews, man your stations._ ”

The sound causes Leia’s heart to beat faster. This is it. This is what everything since the Battle of Scarif has been building to. The Death Star will be on them within the hour and when it is… well, it will be a decisive battle either way it turns out.

When she looks up, she sees him, the pilot of the _Millennium Falcon_ , Han Solo. He and his first mate, the Wookiee, Chewbacca, are loading the boxes of credits her father had given them as a reward for not only her safe return but also the delivery of the technical readouts for the Death Star onto their ship. She’s not sure why she approaches him, it’s as if her legs drag her over, as though her body has a mind of its own.

“So, you’ve gotten your reward and you’re just leaving then? Is that right?” She asks him, desperately trying to sound disinterested.

He looks up at her, crate of credits in hand, he pauses his movements for a moment before continuing.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He says dismissively as he hands the brown box to the Wookiee. “You know, I was never in this for your _Rebellion_ , Princess. I’ve got a life to lead, debts to pay off – and what good’s a reward if you ain’t around to use it?” He asks, lifting one of the boxes of credits for emphasis. The Wookiee moans something behind him and, not for the first time since she’d been rescued, she wishes that she understood Shyriiwook. “Oh yeah? And who asked you?” Han grumbles to his friend.

“Those sound like excuses to me.” Leia says, trying to sound uncaring – for the life of her, she can’t understand _why_ she cares that this pilot, this _rude_ man, is leaving. Maybe it’s just because she realizes that they could use all of the help they can get. “Like cowardice.” She adds with a smirk.

This, it would seem, strikes a nerve with Han, who slams one of the boxes down hard, causing Leia to jump in surprise. Despite her shock, she is glad that she is able to affect him so, to know that she can make him just as irate as he makes her. His face turns an angry shade of red as he rounds on her.

“Attacking that battle station ain’t my idea of courage, your _highness_ , more like… suicide.” He looks at her intently, his hazel eyes burning. “You’re willing to die for this?” He questions, and while he is clearly still angry, his curiosity seems genuine.

“I am.” Leia agrees and it is the absolute truth. “I was back on the battle station and I am now. There are some things that are more important than me – than any of us!”

Han is quiet for a long moment. He stares at her, eyes narrowed, and Leia feels like her stomach is doing backflips and she wishes it would _just stop_!

“Well, then you’re a better person than I am.”

Leia doesn’t want to agree with him, but she doesn’t want to disagree either. She presses her mouth into a tight, thin line. She had known that Han wasn’t in this for the cause, he’d made that perfectly clear during her rescue and afterwards as well. She had known that he would leave, though Luke had disagreed, convinced that Han would stay and join the fight. Normally Leia loves being right, now it just leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

“Well, good luck with your debts, Solo.” She says before turning and heading off towards the command center.

“Princess – Leia!” He calls out after her. Leia turns embarrassingly quickly. His face is softer now, eyes open and genuine. She would think they looked almost apologetic, if she didn’t know any better. “May the Force be with you.”

* * *

Luke’s stomach churns with an exhilarating mixture of anxiety and excitement as he watches R2 being loaded into the X-Wing that he’s been assigned. He’s to be a member of the Red Squadron for this battle, Red Five, to be precise.

Battle. He’s about to be a part of a _battle_! He’s going to fly an X-Wing for the Rebellion. Ideally, he, and the rest of Red Squadron, will just be keeping the skies clear of enemy fighters while Gold Team does the trench run. Of course, Luke knows that he may need to do the trench run himself, and he’s prepared to do so, or as prepared as he can be with little to no training, should it come to that.

He could _die_. He knows this, but he also knows that everyone on this base, everyone living on the moon, everyone in the whole _galaxy_ is in danger so long as that weapon is operational. So, while he is, of course, afraid to die, he also knows that this is the right thing to do.

But… his _father_ could be on that battle station. Luke hadn’t really considered it before now, but wouldn’t he still be aboard? So, if they are able to blow up the Death Star, his father – his father would be killed! If they don’t blow it up, though, then everyone on the base will die! Luke’s heart starts to race as quickly as his thoughts. A voice from behind him nearly causes Luke to jump out of his skin.

“Can you believe it, Luke?” Biggs pats Luke on the back as he approaches from behind. “You and me, flying for the Rebellion, just like we always talked about.”

“No,” Luke says truthfully, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it.” He and Biggs really have dreamed about this for as long as Luke can remember, and now that he’s here, all Luke can do is wonder if he’s doing the right thing.

“Well, I’ll see you up there, Skywalker!” Biggs says, throwing on his helmet and running off to his X-Wing.

As Luke climbs into his own ship, he feels like he’s going to be sick.

* * *

As Darth Vader approaches the DS-1 battle station he can feel the sun-dragon coil around his heart for the first time in two decades. He thought he’d been rid of this fear, this weakness that did not serve him, that never saved anyone, and yet here it is, burning him, choking him. His head is on fire.

His children are on that moon. He cannot, will not fail them as he failed so many others.

 _All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out_.

The sickeningly familiar phrase rings through his head on repeat as it had so often in the time before. _All things die_ – but not his children. Not them, never them. Vader had failed their mother – no, Anakin Skywalker had failed their mother, but his children will not befall the same fate, he will never allow it. He does not care what he has to do to ensure that truth.

He does not see the enemy pilots descend on the weapon, but it does not matter, he can feel them. He pulls his TIE up just in time to avoid the red laser blast of an X-Wing. More TIEs are scrambled from the battle station and suddenly, Vader finds himself in the middle of a battle.

With a flash of cold fear, he feels a blindingly familiar presence wiz by him. He turns his mask in the direction of the Force signature – his son is in that X-Wing. Vader finds himself in close pursuit.

His son flies like a natural. Of course he does, he _is_ Vader’s son, after all. He zooms low, close to the battle station, taking out surface canons as he goes. He dodges the green fire from an incoming TIE – wait, his son is being fired upon by an incoming TIE, two actually.

The two TIE fighters flank Vader’s TIE Advanced, surely meaning to support him in what they believe is now a very one-sided dogfight. Vader pulls back and aims at the two TIEs pursuing his son, they blow apart in plumes of fire and debris.

 _Father_.

His son’s voice rings through his head. Luke knows he is here. He can feel his son’s bright presence brush up against his own and shudder in recognition and maybe… relief?

 _My son_.

* * *

_My son_.

Luke hears the voice in his head and it takes everything in him just to keep his ship from veering off and into the side of the battle station, ending his first battle for the Rebellion, not to mention his life, in a blaze of fire and confusion and fear.

He had felt his father’s presence, he would recognize that cold void of angry energy anywhere, and simply reached out for him, thought the word ‘ _Father’_. Had his father truly heard him? Had he truly responded? His voice had sounded different in Luke’s head, more human, less mechanical – more man than machine.

His father is following him. Luke cannot see his TIE, but he can sense him. His father had destroyed the TIE fighters attacking Luke, had protected him. The relief Luke feels now is indescribable. He had _known_ that his father wouldn’t attack him. He knew it like he knows how to breathe.

Once most of the surface cannons had been cleared out, Gold Team started their trench run. TIEs descended on them and after two unsuccessful runs Gold Squadron was gone. Luke’s stomach turned at the loss of life. He didn’t know any of the pilots on Gold Squadron especially well, heck, he didn’t know _any_ of the pilots flying for the Rebellion outside of Biggs, Ben and Rey. Still, it was difficult to believe that just under an hour ago they had all been packed in the meeting room back on the base, and now they’re gone.

“Look out, Red Five.” Luke recognizes the voice of the Red Leader flowing through the comm in his helmet. “Looks like you’ve got a tail.”

Luke knows who they are talking about, his father, though he can’t very well tell them that, can he? He’s still unsure of his father’s allegiances. Has his father turned against the Empire?

“I’ve got you, Luke.” Biggs calls out over the open comm line.

“Wait – no!” Luke cries, panic crawling up his throat, gripping his heart.

He whips his ship up just in time to see Bigg’s ship, Red Three, descend on his father’s craft. The Rebel pilot fires, but Luke’s father dodges the shot easily, pulling his ship low and around, positioning himself behind Bigg’s X-Wing.

“Biggs!” Luke cries as his friend’s ship is blown apart by his father’s green laser fire.

Biggs is gone, dead without another word. Luke can feel him go, can feel the distinct lack of his friend in the galaxy. It’s like something has been ripped away from inside of him, and his father had done it.

“I’m hit!” Red Leader calls out. Luke looks down towards the battle station to see an X-Wing spiraling towards the weapon’s surface. “Red Five, you lead the next run. Red Two, Red Four, you –” But the leader of Red Squadron’s orders are cut off by screaming and static as his ship collides with the side of the Death Star in an explosion of fire and durasteel.

Luke’s heart is still racing as he dips his ship low and begins his trench run. Tears sting his eyes, he blinks them away quickly, he can’t have them burring his vision, not now, not when everything is riding on him. He glances down at the chrono on his ship counting down how much time they have until the Death Star is in range of Yavin IV, it’s – not enough, or maybe just barely enough time for Luke to make his run. He’s the last chance the Rebellion has.

He dodges fire from surface cannons and is so focused on the pressure mounting on his shoulders that he doesn’t even notice the two TIE fighters pulling up behind him and the other two pilots. It is only the sound of screaming and explosion accompanied by the death of Red Four that pulls Luke out of his thoughts.

“I’ve been hit, my weapons systems are down.” Red Two calls out through the comm.

Luke can sense his father nearby, perhaps just behind the two other TIES now. Luke is approaching the target. He pulls down his targeting computer and allows it to begin its calculations. He’s too close to pull back now, he needs to make the shot, no matter what.

“Pull up, I’ve got it.” Luke assures the other pilot.

The moment Red Two pulls out of the fray Luke’s father takes out his two tails. It’s just the two of them now and Luke’s heart is beating out of his chest. The targeting computer is beeping rapidly as he prepares the proton torpedoes. He can see the target drawing closer, the two-meter-wide exhaust port.

 _That shot’s impossible, even for a computer_.

Luke had disagreed with the pilot back during the briefing, but so far, he’d been correct. Two runs and two failed shots. The first run with Gold Leader hadn’t even managed to get a shot off, the second run, the torpedoes had impacted on the surface, leaving no considerable damage. Luke is sure that he’s made a shot like this in the past. He pulls the targeting computer further in front of his vision with a trembling hand. Had it been luck before, or… something else?

Luke can feel his father’s cold, dark energy brushing against him, he feels hesitant, almost… afraid? Luke wants to pull away from the presence, his heart still aching over the death of his childhood friend.

_You know what you must do, my son. Use the Force._

In an instant, Luke knows that his father is right. Something inside of him sings with the truth of it, that must be the Force as well. He pushes the computer up and out of the way, mans the weapon’s manual controls and closes his eyes, reaching out with the Force as Rey had taught him.

“Luke, you’ve turned off your targeting computer, is everything alright?” One of the Rebellion commanders asks.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Luke agrees, his eyes still closed.

He can feel the exhaust port. He can feel the life forces of everyone around him, enemies and allies – they are all the same in the Force. He can feel the proton torpedoes, prepped and ready to fire. He feels something else too, something heavier. It hums around him now, is it destiny? No, that’s a little dramatic even for Luke. His thumb hovers over the trigger, shaking from tension. He knows that he has to wait until just the right moment before he – he shoots and pulls his ship up in an instant. It feels like a long moment of silence before he hears cheering on the other end of the comm – it’s a direct hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...😬 Choices were made, by me and by Vader. 
> 
> Ah! I've been absolutely so nervous to post this chapter for a while, ever since I made the decision to have Darth Dad be the Obi Wan voiceover in this scene. A bold choice, I know, but I think that it makes sense for the story and where Vader is (emotionally) in it - or, at least, I hope it does!😅😂 It's a big risk, but one that I think will pay off with what I have planned later in the story. I really hope that you guys liked this chapter! It was so much fun to write!
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for the very kind comments, kudos and bookmarks, I genuinely appreciate them so, so much!😊💕


	13. A Couple of Happy Landings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader knows the moment he is hit that there is no saving his ship. It tumbles through open space, explosions, bypassing large chunks of debris from the battle station he has a large hand in destroying - not that he can think on that now. He holds the crumbling ship together with the Force, straining as the vacuum around him threatens to pull it to pieces. All systems are offline, no warnings blare, it is nothing more than a metal shell, a tomb, perhaps.
> 
> \---
> 
> Han has a crisis of conscience, Luke loses his Dad in the crowd, Vader maintains Anakin's record of crashing every ship he's ever touched, Kylo follows in his grandfather's footsteps, and Rey's not loving the snow.

Han Solo leans back in the captain’s chair of the _Millennium Falcon_ the moment the ship hits hyperspace, the white and blue lines blurring before his eyes. He can feel Chewie’s eyes boring into the side of his head. Chewie’d wanted to stay, to _help_. The damn sap. Han ignores the look and the guilt building in his stomach. He’s been here before, he knows what _helping_ gets you, a fat load of nothing, that’s what.

He drums his fingers absentmindedly on the armrest of the chair. Han hadn’t been sure, at first, where he should head, seeing as he still has a very large bounty on his head thanks to the Empire and the little rag-tag crew he’d found himself a part of over the past few days.

He figures that he may as well pay off Jabba as soon as possible, make sure the number of bounties on his head stays at _one_ , and Tatooine’s remote enough that he’s fairly sure he can get in and out quickly and quietly without being spotted. After that, who knows? He’ll have to lay low for a while, but that’s nothing new for him. Maybe he could stay with Lando? The former smuggler’s gotten himself a pretty sweet setup on Bespin, last Han had heard.

He could lay low with the Rebels, Han knows this - Ben had been sure to stress that they would all be jumping straight to _Hoth_ after the battle ended, emphasizing the name of the planet as if to ensure it was branded into Han’s memory. Han doubts any of those poor fools will be making the jump at all. They’re crazy if they think they can take on a battle station of that size plus a star destroyer with a few snub fighters - and that shot? Han hates anyone to tell _him_ the odds, but that shot is impossible.

Those kids are goners, and if what they had said about the weapon’s capabilities was true, so is the moon that Rebel base is planted on, and probably a whole lot more if he knows the Empire like he thinks he does.

They’d all asked him to stay, to help the fight. All of them, the princess, Rey, the kid - all of them but Ben, who seemed to know that Han was leaving even before he said he was. Han had dealt with his fair share of _rebels_ and _rebellions_ over the years, and they were always more trouble than they were worth, which, in his opinion, was very little at all.

“ _The problem with a bleeding heart, is that eventually, you bleed out._ ” Han had said to Rey before she’d run off to jump in her X-Wing, or, more likely, to kiss her boyfriend before the both of them flew off to their dooms.

They’re just kids, really, her, Luke and Leia. Han remembers being young and full of good will, before the galaxy drained him of it. Always wanting to be the ‘good guy’ or the ‘hero’. Those are nice titles until you realize that the galaxy doesn’t work like that. There are no ‘good guys’ or ‘bad guys’ just ‘living guys’ and ‘dead guys’.

Hell, when did he become such a bitter old man?

Han runs one hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s had since before he can remember. He doesn’t know why but he keeps seeing the princess’s face before she turned away from him back on the base. She’d looked so defeated; he wasn’t even sure defeat was something a spitfire like her could possibly feel. Her eyes had been so sad, and when he closes his own eyes now, he sees them again.

He wrestles with a decision. Han knows the difference between right and wrong, smart and stupid. Often, the right thing and the stupid thing are the exact same thing – the very _thing_ he shouldn’t even consider doing. Why _is_ he considering it? Is he really going to throw himself at the mercy of the Empire, something he’s sure is a fantasy, for a pair of pretty, sad eyes?

Han practically growls as he pulls the _Falcon_ out of hyperspace and begins re-calculating a new light speed jump. He sees Chewie stir beside him and juts one finger out at the Wookiee.

“Don’t say anything.” He warns as the ship heads back to the Yavin system. He only hopes it’s not too late.

The _Falcon_ jumps back into the realspace above Yavin IV just in time to see the kid pull it off. He watches the X-Wing fly up and away from the battle station just in time to dodge the explosion. A smile creeps onto Han’s face before he sees that the kid’s got a TIE hot on his tail.

“Chewie, follow that fighter!” Han shouts as he runs and jumps into the lower gunner bay on the ship.

The TIE following the kid is different than any Han has seen before, the normally flat wings curve in on the ships rounded body. The enemy TIE hasn’t fired yet, but Han knows it’s only a matter of time before the kid is toast. He lines up the shot with the targeting computer and fires. The TIE is hit, but not directly. The craft is not destroyed, but the hit is enough to send them flying away from Luke’s ship.

Han makes it back up to the cockpit just in time to see the X-Wings start their jumps towards the new Rebel base on Hoth. He screws up his face for a moment, silently wondering if he should follow or not, before jumping back in the pilot’s seat and punching in the coordinates.

Chewie starts to growl something that Han just knows is going to be a little too smug.

“Not. A. Word.” He grunts without looking over in his first mate’s direction.

* * *

Luke only just manages to avoid the explosion that results in the destruction of the Death Star. He whips his ship up and around into a safe place. He looks around and between the debris of the battle station and the remaining X-Wings and TIE fighters, he doesn’t see his father’s ship anywhere. He can feel that his father is still nearby, somewhere. Has he decided to fly back to his star destroyer? Luke can’t help but feel disappointed.

The sight of a different familiar ship is enough to lift his spirits, however. Luke punches in the code for the _Falcon_ ’s communications channel.

“Han!” He cries, unable to keep the smile from his face or voice. “You came back!”

“Almost too late to see the show,” Han responds with a laugh nearly instantly. “That was some shot, kid!”

“Yeah,” Luke sighs, wondering if he should reveal his father’s part in that shot or in the battle in general, but Han doesn’t seem to really care too much for the Force, maybe he can talk to Ben or Rey once they arrive on the new base. “I’ll, uh, see you on Hoth?” Luke asks, unsure if the pilot will be joining them.

“I’ll see you there, kid.” Han responds and Luke feels like he can see the man rolling his eyes. “Strap in, you’ve got a long ride ahead of you in that little ship.”

Luke laughs in response as he punches in the coordinates for the new Rebel Alliance base and the battlefield in front of him dissolves into the glowing blue of a hyperspace lane.

* * *

Vader knows the moment he is hit that there is no saving his ship. It tumbles through open space, explosions, bypassing large chunks of debris from the battle station _he_ has a large hand in destroying - not that he can think on that now. He holds the crumbling ship together with the Force, straining as the vacuum around him threatens to pull it to pieces. All systems are offline, no warnings blare, it is nothing more than a metal shell, a tomb, perhaps.

He wills the ship to stop spinning and it does, even if only slightly. He can see through the cracked transparisteel viewport that he is headed straight for the swirling red and orange gas giant, Yavin, the planet that the Rebel moon orbits. With one last push of the Force, he changes trajectory, sends his metallic prison hurtling towards the small moon.

It takes nearly everything he has to keep his ship in, relatively, one piece as he breaks the moon’s atmosphere. The wings fly off and are lost to the unknown, leaving just the round body careening towards the orbit’s surface. He slows the craft as much as he can, but the impact is still incredibly hard. The metal ball hits the ground and skids through the hard surface soil, impacting trees, felling them.

Vader check his suits systems as soon as the craft settles. His life support systems are all still functional, only the system that supports his breathing and the cybernetics in his right leg are damaged, but not so much as to impact him in any significant way.

The viewport pops off with a push of the Force and Vader steps out into the smoke and destruction caused by his landing. The moon buzzes around him, full of life and the Force. Vader reaches out. There are few life forms of any significance left, but there is one he recognizes, one that is strong in the Force, a pulsating grey standing out among dim points of light. In an instant it is gone. His grandson hides his presence in the Force well. It is no matter. Vader will find him either way, and when he does, the man will tell him where the Rebels are headed, where his children are headed.

Vader ignites his lightsaber and begins making his way through the thick brush of the jungle. If he cannot follow the Force signature of his grandson, he will find where the other lifeforms are gathered, that is surely where his grandson will be headed as well. The damaged cybernetics in his leg make the trek much slower than necessary, but there is nothing to be done for it.

Vader tries to focus on nothing but the task at hand, on the intentions of the Force swirling around him, but it is difficult. Should Sidious find out about what happened above the Death Star, and Sidious has his ways, Vader knows this all too well, it could spell the end for him and his family. Vader has no doubt that his master would see it as a betrayal, a betrayal of the Empire – though that could not be further from the truth.

Vader is still very much loyal to the Empire, believes in the peace it can bring to the galaxy, the peace it _would_ bring if it weren’t for certain short-sighted terrorist cells like the ‘Rebel Alliance’. Yes, he had a large hand in the destruction of the DS-1 battle station, there is no denying that, but the weapon was unnecessary. Whatever it could provide for the Empire pales in comparison to the power of the Force. Vader will not mourn it, nor will he feel remorse for its destruction.

Vader’s master would see his decision as weakness. Is that what it had been? Weakness, sentiment for his children? Perhaps, but it is a weakness he cannot find it in himself to regret.

Vader has no doubt that his master will want to speak with him once he returns to the _Devastator_. The loss against the Rebels, the destruction of a battle station nearly twenty years in the making, Vader’s sudden disappearance. Vader will have to be very careful around his master, especially once he has collected his children and grandson.

What to do with them once that happens, though? Hide them? That will be easier said than done. Mustafar might be safe, but it is not a guarantee. Nothing is guaranteed until Sidious is dead. Once, Vader had been sure he could take on his master on his own, but now, trapped in this suit as he is, he is less than certain and it will be a while until either of his children are fully trained… could his grandson be convinced? Perhaps. Vader considers this further as he slices through the thick undergrowth, cutting a path towards his destiny.

* * *

Kylo is finally able to exhale when he sees the sight of the Death Star exploding in the distance. At least _this_ had gone well. He waits a moment, wondering if he and Rey are about to be deposited back in the future, but of course, that doesn’t happen.

He is in the process of calculating the jump to hyperspace when his ship jerks violently forward. Alarms blare loudly, warning of failing and damaged systems. He has positioned himself too near Vader’s star destroyer. TIEs swoop around him, one flying dangerously close, surely his attacker.

Kylo pulls his ship up and around, easier said than done at this point, and relieves himself of the enemy fighter. He checks his systems - hyperdrive: offline, life support: failing, communications: damaged. He grinds his teeth. Great, that is just wonderful. At the very least, he should be able to make it back to Yavin IV for an emergency landing - a crash landing, he amends checking his landing gear.

He lifts the oxygen mask attached to his flack vest to his face as he points the nose of his ship down towards the green and blue moon. He pulls hard on the ship’s steering instrument.

 _Rey?_ He calls out into the bond. No response, she must have already jumped.

He sighs deeply. This situation is… less than ideal, to say the least, but it is manageable, surely. He’s fairly sure he can make it back to the Rebel base, there, he can hitch a ride with one of the stragglers who have yet to evacuate – there must be some, there always are.

The alarms get louder and more angry sounding as his ship careens through the moon’s layers of atmosphere. He’s pretty sure that one of the wings on the right side is on fire. Thick, black smoke billows from the ship’s engine, blocking Kylo’s view of the jungle canopy below. He double checks his restraints as he palms the emergency eject switch on the side of his seat. He’s strapped in tightly. He waits until he thinks he’s at a safe altitude and pulls.

The ship falls away from beneath him, wind roaring in his ears. His whole body jolts sharply as the parachute opens. Kylo watches the flaming X-Wing tumble to the surface of the moon below, and in a short time it is lost beneath the thick layer of trees. He scans the horizon, looking out for any familiar landmarks. He does not see the temple, though he can see a few dark blobs rising into the air far in the distance, ships evacuating for Hoth, he guesses.

A blast of green laser fire slices through the sky, hitting the peak of a mountain, blasting the top of it off. He cannot see where the bast originated from, though he’s sure it’s the star destroyer.

He can nearly feel himself smile as he looks on the smoldering, flat-topped mountain. If it is the same one he remembers from his youth, the temple will be in that direction, but it is at least a couple days hike from where he’s bound to land. That’s fine though, no one is bout to reach Hoth for a few days anyway. So long as Kylo can avoid the Empire presence that is sure to be on the moon sooner rather than later, he’ll be fine.

His parachute gets caught in the branches of the tall trees below, but it’s a simple thing to slice through the ropes with his lightsaber, sending the chair he is still strapped tightly into tumbling down towards the ground. He stops his fall with the Force easily, unbuckling his restraints as soon as his feet are safely on the ground.

He removes the flack vest, life support box, and gloves. He will not need them any longer. He rips the helmet off of his head as well, throwing it on top of the pile of the rest of his discarded items.

Kylo wastes no time in beginning his trek towards the temple, his lightsaber hilt still held tightly in his grasp – there are many dangerous predators that live in these jungles and he will not be caught unawares. He uses the crackling red blade to cut through a patch of thick vines when he feels it – a dark presence surrounds him. He feels like his body’s been dunked in an ice bath and he shudders. He stops his movements, shielding his own presence in the Force immediately, he knows the most dangerous predator on this moon is already hunting him – his grandfather.

* * *

Rey is not the first to arrive on Hoth. She lands her X-Wing among the others on the blindingly white snow outside of the base. The second the hatch above the cockpit swings open she is assaulted by the biting cold. She flings herself out of the ship and onto the ground below, kneeling down to closer inspect the cold, white material.

She has seen snow before, of course. There had been plenty of it on Starkiller Base, though she hadn’t been in a position to look at it very closely then. A smile breaks out on her face as she reaches out to touch it. It’s softer than she imagined and so, so cold. It burns her fingers almost like the sunbaked sands of Jakku around midday, which she finds surprising.

The icy winds nip at her nose and cheeks and her uncovered ears as she rises once again, turning them red, stinging like a sunburn. She reaches out for Ben, but he’s not here. Her gaze turns upwards towards the bright blue sky. It’s just about midday on Hoth and the sun is high. Rey has to block the light from it with her hand as she watches X-Wings and transports pop into the atmosphere and fly down to the base. Her heart feels light as she sees a very familiar freighter make planet-fall not too far away from where she’s landed.

She arrives at the ship just in time for the gangplank to lower. Han bristles at the cold air. Jealously, she notices the parka he is wearing, dark blue with a soft-looking fur-lined hood. Surely, he has outfits aboard his ship suitable for all climates. She cannot keep the smile off of her face as he approaches, though she can tell he is biting one back.

“You came back.” She says throwing her arms around him. Ben had said he would. Rey had known he would, he’d come for her on Starkiller after all, but knowing and seeing are two different things.

“Yeah, well, I figure if I’m on the run from the Empire, might as well hang around here.” He says shrugging out of the embrace. Rey has to hold back a laugh at the classic Solo deflection. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend or whatever.” He says flippantly before his face screws into something more genuine. “I’m glad you’re alright - Where are your friends?” He asks, looking around the base.

“I haven’t seen them yet.” Rey says, sounding a little more distressed than she’d intended to.

“Hey, I’m sure they’re alright.” Han says, throwing his arm over her shoulders. Chewie growls in agreement.

She knows that Han is right. She would have felt if something happened, if… but she can’t think about that, because everyone is fine. They just haven’t arrived yet is all.

“Let’s get you inside.” Han says, pulling Rey further into the warmth of his thick jacket, which she is glad for. The flight suit she is wearing provides little protection against the biting winds whipping at her from seemingly all directions. “Before you freeze to death.”

Rey nods her head, her teeth chattering violently, as she and Han turn towards the entrance of the base which seems to be carved out of the ice itself. Rey wonders how much warmer it could possibly be inside, but she is hopeful. It had been exciting to see and experience the snow without distraction for the first time, but whatever joy she had felt is quickly fading.

“Rey! Han! Chewie!” A familiar voice calls out from a cluster of X-Wings to their right.

Luke approaches, his feet less than sure in the snow, like Rey, he is a creature of the desert. She wishes that she had known that before, maybe they could have found some common ground back on Ahch To. She wonders if he had been as amazed by the rain the first time he had seen it and when that wonder wore off.

“Boy, am I glad to see you.” Luke says, pulling all three of them into a hug. Pulling back, he looks at Rey, one hand still on her shoulder. He looks tired, surely as tired as she must feel. Both of them had just spent a couple of standard days traveling in a cramped X-Wing, not exactly the type of ship suited for comfort. “Rey, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay, sure.” She agrees. “Can we… go inside first?” She inclines her head towards the base which, luckily, is not too far. R2D2 whirs behind Luke, his treads struggling in the snow.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Luke says with a tired smile, nodding. Flakes of snow tumble from his blond hair and back into the air.

The four begin walking back, Rey now tucked under Chewie’s furry arm which provides her shivering body much more warmth and protection from the biting cold.

“It’s uh -,” Luke begins, leaning in towards Rey, lowering his voice into a whisper. “It’s about my father.”

“Oh,” Rey says, her eyes flying wide. Ben had told her that Vader now knows about Luke, but does Luke know about him? She has a feeling she’s about to find out. She’s about to suggest that they wait for Ben to arrive when Luke spots a familiar princess walking across the base followed closely by a golden protocol droid.

Leia has changed from the white dress she had been sporting and into trousers and a thick, very warm-looking down jacket which Rey eyes with teeth-clattering envy. Her hair has been pulled up into a bun of elaborate braids.

“Leia!” Luke calls out.

The sound of her name catches her attention and her head whips around towards them, eyes shining. Rey notices Leia’s eyes linger on Han a moment longer than everyone else, her expression twisting into delighted surprise for just a second.

“Luke, I’m glad to have found you.” Leia says as she approaches.

“Nice to see you too, Princess.” Han grumbles from the other side of Chewie.

Leia narrows her eyes at the smuggler and looks for a moment as though she is going to say something but changes her mind at the last second.

“Of course, I’m glad to see all of you are safe.” She shoots Rey and Chewie a quick apologetic smile each. “But I’ve been looking for Luke.”

“Looking for me?” Luke asks, his cheeks bright pink, though it’s surely from the cold. “Why, Princess?”

“My father wants to speak with the two of us,” She explains. “He wouldn’t say what about,” She adds quickly before Luke can ask. “Threepio,” She turns to the droid behind her. “Can you help the others get settled in?”

“It would be my pleasure, Princess.” The droid agrees eagerly.

“Oh, well, alright.” Luke says, sounding uncomfortable. He begins to follow Leia who has already begun to stride back towards the hangar, but he shoots a quick look back at Rey. “I’ll, uh, find you later I guess.” He says with a shrug.

Rey nods, her fingers tucked under her arms for warmth. She cranes her neck around Chewie’s arm to look back at the open sky before they head under the cover of the base. There are still a few ships up there, a few still landing, but she can sense that none of them are Ben. Where is he?

C-3PO leads Rey and her two smuggler escorts in the direction of an office being used as a ‘reception’ area, of sorts. There, Rey is able to procure a set of warmer clothes, which she is extremely grateful for, and a room assignment. Han seems reluctant to accept a room assignment, himself, probably intending on sleeping in the _Falcon_ , or something equally foolish. Luckily, Chewie has the sense to accept the room and leads a flustered Han towards the sleeping quarters.

Rey wastes no time in making her way to her own quarters and sloughing off the bright-orange flight suit to don her new clothing, a long-sleeved maroon tunic, a cream-colored parka and pants made of a thicker material than she’s ever worn before. Having only lived on Jakku and Ajan Kloss, with a brief interlude on Ahch To, the clothing needed to survive on Hoth is heavier than she’s ever experienced and while she is grateful for the warmth they provide, she finds it a bit awkward to move in them.

The sleeping quarters she’s been provided are quite plain, but more than acceptable. Like the rest of the base, the room is carved from ice and compacted snow, leaving the ceiling slightly rounded. There’s a cot, a smallish chest of drawers and a piece of reflective metal hanging from one of the icy walls, a make-shift mirror of sorts.

Rey looks at her reflection in the mirror as she takes down her buns, letting her brown hair tumble freely over the cold skin of her exposed neck. She’s worn the same hair-style for so long, it’s almost like she’s looking at a different person rather than her own reflection. She’d kept the three-bun style her mother had given her with the childish fear that whenever her parents returned for her they would not recognize her without it. She doesn’t need to wear her hair like that, not here, not any longer.

Her parents will be alive now. What are they doing? Are they on Jakku, or are they native to some other planet? Are they together? She shakes her head – why does she care? She doesn’t care. She wasted fourteen _long_ years of her life waiting for her parents, she refuses to waste any more time or energy thinking about them at all. She closes her eyes tightly to force away the tears gathering there. They don’t matter.

After some time, Rey finds herself outside of the Base again, her eyes, now hidden behind protective goggles - protection from the cold, not sand and wind this time - cast up to the sky. Ben is still not here. A fear as old as memory buzzes at the base of her skull.

_He’s not coming back. You are alone._

That’s not true. Rey is _sure_ that it is not true. Ben is coming back, he wouldn’t leave her. He’s not - things have changed, between them, this she knows for certain. He’s changed, or, is changing, she can feel it, the way the Light grows stronger within him with every passing day. That can’t be – it has to _mean_ something, she’s sure of it.

_He's coming back. He’s coming back. He’s coming back._

She repeats the phrase in her head like a prayer, still every ship that lands and reveals faceless, unknown rebel pilots and soldier and crew slices at wounds still yet unhealed, leaving them raw, letting them weep within her.

In an attempt to shake these thoughts from her head, she goes looking for something to do, something to occupy her mind and hands. Luckily for her, there’s always a job needing done on a rebel base, as she knows all too well – be it the Rebel Alliance or the Resistance, it’s all the same.

Rey is in the process of moving boxes of equipment from a pile outside of the base to a storage room in the interior when she feels it. The slight pressure all around her, the sensation of her ears popping, the air around her humming with energy. She lifts the protective goggles from her eyes, ignoring the cold sting that accompanies the act. He’s here, sitting at the foot of a crate not ten paces away. He’s still wearing that orange flight suit and there’s a warm glow illuminating his face, like he’s looking into some fire she cannot see on her end of the connection. He’s sweating, is he somewhere warm?

“Ben,” She breathes. He looks up at her, his dark eyes shining in the waning light of the late afternoon.

“Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! Skywalkers - crash landing? Say it ain't so, that just doesn't sound like them! Seriously, though, this ain't looking too good for Kylo. Grandpa's looking for him and when Skywalkers get together, disaster is soon to follow. I just hope that Kylo and his Grandpa have a nice camping trip, their relationship has been rather strained as of late. 
> 
> I hope it's clear that the evacuation of Yavin was moved up due to Vader's star destroyer hanging out in the system so that's why they're all jumping directly after the battle instead of having their nice little ceremony right away.
> 
> Also, Han's back! He's just a little later than before, or maybe Luke got the shot off a little earlier. Maybe both! Oh Han, he thinks he's helping. Bless him. 💖
> 
> I wonder what Bail wants to speak with Luke and Leia about? It's probably nothing! 👌😉
> 
> Thanks to everyone for your always kind comments, kudos and bookmarks - I appreciate them all so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	14. Skywalker Family Drama Theater Presents:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nervous nausea churns in Luke’s stomach. Have they found out about his father? Is he in trouble? Is having a father who works for the Empire something that he can get in trouble for? Though, if that’s what Bail wants to speak with him about, why is Leia here?
> 
> “I need to have a conversation with the two of you, one that is probably long overdue.”
> 
> Luke wonders how this conversation could possibly be, as Bail says, ‘long overdue’. He’s only just met the both of them in the past few days. Confusion overtakes his nervousness. Bail takes a deep breath before continuing.
> 
> \---
> 
> Bail, Han, and Rey get front-row seats to Skywalker Family Drama Theater Presents: The Days of Our Space-Lives: A Star Wars Story - Starring Anakin Skywalker as Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker as himself, Leia Organa as herself, and Ben Solo as Kylo Ren!
> 
> Seriously, those three have got to be regretting mixing themselves in with the chaotic tornado that is the Skywalker family at this point, right?

“Luke, Leia,” Bail stands as he welcomes them into the small makeshift office. The walls here, like the rest of the base, are carved from ice. Lights hang from the low ceiling casting a faint blue glow over everything. Bail shifts around a few datapads on his desk with gloved hands. “Please, sit.” He gestures towards the two chairs facing his desk.

Luke sits in the chair closest to him and shivers. It is warmer inside of the base than outside, but he hasn’t been given the opportunity to change into anything warmer than his flight suit as of yet and is freezing.

“Thank you both for coming so quickly,” Bail begins, clearing his throat and swallowing hard. He looks tired and more than a little uncomfortable, and from the looks of his thick, down coat, Luke doubts that his discomfort stems from the cold. Bail remains standing, both hands splayed out on the desktop.

“What did you need to speak with us about, father?” Leia asks from beside Luke.

Nervous nausea churns in Luke’s stomach. Have they found out about his father? Is he in trouble? Is having a father who works for the Empire something that he can get in trouble for? Though, if that’s what Bail wants to speak with him about, why is Leia here?

“I need to have a conversation with the two of you, one that is probably long overdue.”

Luke wonders how this conversation could possibly be, as Bail says, ‘long overdue’. He’s only just met the both of them in the past few days. Confusion overtakes his nervousness. Bail takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Luke, Leia,” He begins again and Luke wonders if he might be stalling, and if he is, what for? “The two of you are siblings,” He says with a deep sigh. “Twins.” He quickly adds.

Luke’s eyes fly open wide, uncomfortably so in the cold room. His jaw hangs limply as he looks over at Leia his… _sister,_ if Bail is to be believed. Leia does not look at Luke, her face, full of indignant shock, is trained on her father before them.

“What?” Leia asks angrily and Luke wonders how she can form the word. He’s sure that there is no way he could possibly speak at all right now, he feels like he can hardly breathe through the tightness in his chest and throat.

It’s not possible, right? Leia can’t be his sister, his _twin_ sister. Surely, he would have known before this if that were the case - but, why would her father lie? Luke blushes, remembering with a shock how she’d kissed him. It had just been on the cheek though, surely that doesn’t, count right? He hasn’t… _kissed_ his sister, though he had thought she was… no, he refuses to follow that line of thought. Still, something about Bails words rings true in a way that Luke cannot explain, much like when his father had revealed himself to Luke - how many secret family members does he have, anyway?

“I know this is shocking, but please, let me explain.” Bail pleads, hands held out in supplication. “I know, I know,” He repeats, shaking his head. “You must understand, we separated the two of you only to protect you. Only three of us knew of your existence: Obi Wan, Yoda, and myself. We had to ensure that the Emperor never learned about you, either of you.”

“Why couldn’t the Emperor know about us?” Leia asks sounding breathless. Her father raises his hand in acknowledgement of her question, but presses on without answering.

“I knew both of your parents. I worked with your mother, Padmé and I were close friends.”

Padmé. Padmé. His mother’s name is Padmé. Luke takes that bit of precious information and locks it away in the safest part of his heart. It repeats over and over in his head like a pulse. Padmé. He wants to know more about her – everything about her. A million questions race through his mind, but he knows that now is not the time to ask them.

“I would like to think that Anakin and I were friends too, though I did not know him nearly as well.”

Anakin – Anakin Skywalker, the name Luke’s aunt and uncle had given him when he’d asked about his father as a child, the name he’d always associated the man with, until he’d learned of Vader, that is. Luke looks up at Bail who has closed his eyes.

“Anakin – Anakin fell to the Dark Side. Now, I won’t pretend to understand the Force, I’m no Jedi, but I do know that Anakin changed, he betrayed the Jedi and the Republic, helped to destroy the Order, killed many of them himself, even the younglings.” Bail shakes his head again as though it is too hard to continue.

Luke grasps tightly at the arms of his chair with frozen fingers. He feels like the icy walls of the base are constricting around his heart. His father had spoken poorly of the Jedi, he’d even said that they were evil and had to be destroyed – had that been a confession? So why can’t Luke believe it’s true? Younglings? He’d killed younglings? Luke feels very sick.

“Obi Wan confronted him and thought he’d died and your mother – she died in childbirth.” Bail adds quickly and Luke feels that the words are less than true, but he can’t focus on that right now because he’s too busy trying to quell the violent churning in his stomach. “We knew that if the Emperor found out about you, he’d want the two of you killed or, possibly, try to raise one of you as an apprentice. I agreed to take Leia to Alderaan with me and Obi Wan took Luke to his aunt and uncle on Tatooine.”

The mention of his aunt and uncle only makes Luke’s nausea worse. Had they known? Had they kept this from him? All of this? The truth about his mother and father and sister? He wants to ask Bail, to ask him so many things, but Luke knows that if he opens his mouth he’s bound to be ill all over the floor of Bail’s office and that that will only make things worse. Does Leia feel the same way? Luke doesn’t dare even look over at her, too afraid that even the slightest movement might set him off.

“He thought he’d died?” Leia asks, her voice very quiet but sharp as well, like a knife in the dark.

“What was that?”

“You said ‘Obi Wan _thought_ he’d died’. Meaning our… father… hadn’t died?”

“No,” Bail says, his voice low and full of despair. Luke’s heart shoots up into his throat. “No, he is alive. Your father –” Bail sighs again, frowning. “Your father is Darth Vader.”

Luke can feel Leia tense up beside him though she is completely silent – they all are. Luke can feel his heart pounding in his head. He’d already known this, his father being Vader that is, and still he can feel very real panic crawling up his throat, surging through his veins. Panic and… anger? Why is he angry? No, these feelings, they do not belong to him, they are Leia’s.

Luke looks over at the girl who is, apparently, his twin sister, but she doesn’t look angry, not at all. Her face is still, impassive, maybe a little cold, staring straight ahead at her father, or maybe at the wall just past him. Her shoulders look at little too rigid, her back a little too straight, the corner of her mouth twitches nearly imperceptibly.

“Is that all?” She asks, her voice perfectly calm, which is bizarre based on the terrible, clattering emotions Luke feels swirling around her in the Force, he nearly chokes on the strength of them. Her anger seeps into his skin, heats his blood, her panic constricts his chest, makes his heart race.

“No,” Bail admits lowly, hanging his head very slightly. “Vader – _knows_ about the two of you.”

“The blood test.” Leia says plainly and Luke has absolutely no idea what she is talking about.

“Yes, the blood test.” Her father agrees in an equally confusing manner. “As you can imagine, the two of you are now in grave danger.”

“Of course,” Leia says with a short, shallow nod.

“There’s somewhere I know the two of you will be safe. I’ve arranged for an old friend to escort you there.”

“Who?” Luke asks when Leia says nothing.

“An old friend of mine and your parents. She’s – very excited to meet the two of you.” Bail says, a sad smile creeping onto his face.

“Is that all?” Leia asks tonelessly.

“Leia,” Bail begins, his voice wavering. He rounds the desk until he stands in front of her, taking one of her limp hands in both of his. Leia looks at her father, her face set like stone, her eyes cold. “Please, I always meant to tell you, I am so sorry for keeping this from you – it was for your safety, you must believe me.”

“Is that all?” She repeats craning her neck up to look into her father’s eyes.

“Yes,” He says solemnly.

Leia slips her hand out from her father’s loose grasp and leaves the room taking the storm brewing within and around her with her. Luke looks up at Bail shyly, not sure if he should say anything. What can he even possibly say at this moment? So, he stands and moves to leave as well.

“Um, thank you.” He says, turning in the doorway to face Bail. The man’s head is hung low, his shoulders are slumped. He looks up to Luke, his dark eyes sad but dry. He gives Luke a small smile and nods.

* * *

Leia’s breathing comes in short, sharp gasps that burn her lungs as she storms through the base. She doesn’t bother schooling her expression into one of dignified calm out here, it doesn’t matter, not anymore. Every step she takes away from her father’s office brings her ever closer to falling to pieces, so she must make it to her quarters before that happens.

Her hands are balled into small, tight fists at her sides, her nails may even be drawing blood from the soft flesh of her palm. She’s not wearing gloves – why isn’t she wearing gloves? Tears sting her eyes, but she can’t allow herself to cry, not out here, not now with everyone watching. Is everyone looking at her? Do they all know? Do they all know her horrible, horrible secret? Her head is spinning, or maybe the whole galaxy is, and she feels like she is going to be very sick.

She stops and leans one hand against the cold, icy wall of the hallway to steady herself. The frozen wall bites at the exposed flesh of her hand, but she welcomes it, anything to distract from the spinning and the nausea and the truth, that wretched truth. That truth that can’t really be true – but no, Leia is too smart to lie to herself and her father wouldn’t make something like that up.

Darth Vader is her father – her biological father, at least. Leia has always known that she was adopted, it had never been a secret, and she had never cared to know who her birth parents were – she has parents, ones that love her and care for her, so what relevance could the people responsible for her birth ever have in her life? How wrong she’d been. If only she’d known, or maybe it would be better to never know.

“…Princess?”

Leia whirls around, realizing a moment too late that someone is trying to talk to her. Her face morphs into, what is surely, quite an ugly scowl when she sees him approach. Han Solo, the very _last_ person she needs to see right now.

“What do you want?” She snaps.

The pilot rears back, clearly caught off guard by her demeanor and the venom in her tone, but Leia doesn’t care. She feels like her blood has been replaced by poison and every ragged breath hurts, but maybe that’s just from the cold.

“I was asking if you were alright, but clearly, your fine.” He says with that stupid, infuriating smirk that she hates just so much and she hates him and she’s not sure why but she’s just so full of hate right now and he’s here.

“Yes, clearly I’m fine.” She says, pasting on a fake smile for the benefit of no one. “So why don’t you just go, it’s what you’re best at, isn’t it?”

Han seems genuinely affronted by her accusation and Leia doesn’t know why it makes her feel simultaneously worse and better, but she doesn’t take it back.

“I didn’t mean to waste your precious time with my lowly concern, your worship.” Han sneers, lowering himself into a mock bow. “I won’t bother you again.”

“Good!” She says sharply, her voice much louder than it needs to be. If people hadn’t been staring before, they certainly are now, but that’s a good thing. She’d rather people stare because she is making a scene than because she is the daughter of a monster.

Vader had been going to torture her. Had he known then? Would he torture his own daughter? Of course he would, Leia knows all about him, about all of the things he’s done, the people, the _worlds_ he’s destroyed. That’s what he is, in the end, destruction, and yet, he is her creator. She can feel the tears welling up in her traitorous eyes yet again.

Han doesn’t leave. Instead, he takes a step closer. He is in her space now, she could reach out and touch him, easily – not that she would! She shifts uncomfortably where she stands, the hardened snow cracking beneath her feet.

“What’s your problem with me, Princess?” He asks, his voice lower than usual. Leia shivers involuntarily and tells herself it is just from the cold. “You barely know me, but you act like I offend your very being.”

“You want to know what my problem with you is?” Leia asks, not bothering to keep her voice low, as he does. She leans further into his space. “You really want to know?”

“Yes, please,” He smiles, his white teeth flashing, his hazel eyes shining as if daring her to continue. “ _Enlighten_ me.”

“ _You_ ,” She begins with a growl. “Are the rudest, most disrespectful, bad-mannered, irreverent man,” She punctuates each accusation with a slap to his chest. “I have ever met!”

“Stop hitting me.” He says quietly. It is a request, not a command and Leia ignores it completely.

“You’re an impolite, vulgar _scoundrel_ and –” She stops when his hand reaches out to snatch her wrist, stopping an incoming hit in mid-air. She looks up at him. Han’s face is incredibly close now and Leia is struck dumb by just how handsome he is and instantly, she wants to wipe that thought from her mind, because he is all of those things she’d said, but still, when he looks at her like that…

“Scoundrel?” He asks with a grin, his voice impossibly soft in a way that makes her stomach flutter but does not distract her from the grief and anger and sorrow coursing through her system like the blood in her veins.

“And – and –” She tries to continue, her voice trembling.

What is she doing? Han is right. She hardly knows him at all, and she certainly doesn’t hate him – he had helped save her life, even if it was a bit begrudgingly. She’s just standing here, screaming at him – _hitting_ him, her hand twitches in shame, but he keeps his hold on her firm. She wants to apologize, but she can’t even look at the man.

Leia closes her eyes. She is a small child, maybe eight years old, in the galactic senate building, her father’s hold on her hand is warm and solid and firm. A masked, black-clad figure stalks down the hallway past them. They both bow shallowly and say his name softly. Leia doesn’t understand why, they are royalty and the masked man is not, but her father explains that his position in the Empire dictates that level of respect and Leia accepts that fact. He’d known. Her father had known then, had always known, but had never told her.

Pain lances her chest at the lies, but mostly at the truth. She sees Vader at the doorway of her cell, the one he put her in. She hears Ben’s screams, knowing that Vader will be coming for her next. Her _father._

She inhales sharply to stifle a cry, but she can’t hold it back any longer. It’s like the emotions warring through her have broken a dam of sorts and tears pour down her face. She sobs openly and horribly, her wrist still caught in Han’s hold. She brings her free hand up to her face to cover her shame.

“Leia?” She hears him ask over her weeping, his voice still soft but now dripping with concern and not with… whatever it had been dripping with before.

“I – I’m sorry.” She says, apologizing both for what she had said and for her crying now.

Han doesn’t say anything, but he does let go of her hand. She is grateful because now she can run off to her room and cry alone, as she’d intended, as she needs to do, only… now there are arms wrapped around her. Warm, strong arms that hold her tight. She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know that they are Han’s. She weeps, her cold fingers gripping at the fabric of his jacket.

He rubs small circles into her back with one hand and Leia feels like she could melt. She wants to pull back, to apologize further for her rudeness, to thank him for his undeserved kindness, but that would mean leaving this embrace, and that is something that she simply can’t do.

She’d thought she wanted to be alone, to cry in the peace of her quiet, empty room, but how wrong she had been. _This_ is what she wanted, or, it’s what she wants now. It’s what she needs.

* * *

Kylo knows that traveling by night as well as by day will only help him reach the Great Temple faster, but he also knows that the more dangerous of the jungle’s predators are nocturnal, though the fire blazing before him should keep most of them away. Additionally, he needs to rest, especially since he can not allow himself to sleep or mediate for fear of his shields slipping. Should that happen, Vader will find him quickly.

Kylo is sitting in the warming soil at the base of a tree watching the ugly little stintaril roast on the spit over his fire when it happens. The air and the Force around him crackles with electric energy, he feels the buzzing pressure at the base of his skull.

“Ben,” Her voice is a whisper and nearly blends in with the chirping and cawing and cries of the night animals of Yavin IV.

Kylo whips his head around in an instant, his chest warming in a way that has nothing to do with the fire in front of him when he sees her. It is strange to see her outside of her desert garb, but he is glad to see her wearing the cream-colored parka and thick snow-pants now, it means that she, at least, has made it safely to Hoth.

“Rey,” He breathes, his voice a little hoarse from disuse. He hasn’t had any reason to speak for the past few days.

He watches as she lifts the goggles further from her eyes, pulls the scarf down her face to reveal a red nose and rosy cheeks. She searches him, perhaps looking for injuries. Luckily, the combination of Rey’s care on the _Falcon_ and proper medical treatment on the base upon their arrival has seen his previous injuries mostly healed and he has sustained no new ones since. When she finds nothing wrong with him physically, her eyes narrow.

“Where _are_ you?” She hisses, her breath coming out in a thick white puff even in the humid, jungle heat.

“Yavin,” He replies calmly, and he can feel her irritation through the bond. “You’re on Hoth, then?”

“Yes!” She fumes. “Why aren’t you?”

“My ship was hit during the battle,” He explains. “I had to make an… emergency landing.”

“Oh,” She says, and Kylo can feel her temper cooling. She’s been worried about him, about his safety – a heady feeling – but she’s also been worried, scared even, that he’d… _left_ her.

“No,” He says, standing, shaking his head emphatically. He approaches her, taking one cold, gloved hand in both of his. “I wouldn’t, Rey, I…” _Couldn’t_ , he doesn’t finish.

“It’s alright, I – Should we send someone to pick you up?” She asks, cocking her head slightly. “Han and I could be there in…”

“No,” He says quickly. “Just keep my – keep all of them there, with you, on Hoth. I’ll reach the temple by morning and then… I’ll be with you soon, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, her teeth chattering slightly. Kylo can feel the corners of his mouth quirk up.

“How do you like Hoth?” He asks softly, ignoring her question.

“It is too _bloody_ cold.” She says with a glower that is not directed at him, but maybe at the planet she is on, or, perhaps, at cold weather in general. “I miss the jungle.”

“You should try a temperate climate some time.” He says with a small puff of laughter. It’s all extremes with her, deserts, ice planets, jungles. Rey would like Naboo or Chandrila, and Kylo would like to take her. “You might enjoy that more.”

“I like the humidity, though.” She says decisively. Of course she would, having grown up in the dry heat of the Goazon Badlands on Jakku, the humidity of a jungle might feel like a relief, as suffocating as it can be sometimes. She shivers again violently. “I think it just got _colder_ , if that’s possible.” She practically growls.

“Come here.” He says, pulling her towards the fire and sitting her down in front of him. He can feel her confusion radiating through the bond but says nothing as he wraps his arms around her, hoping, desperately, that he is not crossing some kind of line.

“What are you doing?” She asks, though she doesn’t pull away.

“You’re cold.” He says matter-of-factly. “I – when we…” He sighs, suddenly unable to put words together in a way that makes sense. “Before, when our hands touched, you were in front of a fire – I could feel it. So, I thought you might be able to…”

“I can,” She says with a small nod. “Thank you. This is better.” She sighs and Kylo feels like her relief is his own, and maybe it is.

She shuffles slightly where she sits, readjusting herself so that she’s more comfortable wherever she is, probably on the cold snow, Kylo realizes with a pang of guilt. Her hood falls, revealing a waterfall of chestnut brown hair pulled loose from her usual three-bun hairstyle.

“Your hair is down.” He remarks softly.

“Yeah, I –” She starts sounding almost shy, though why she would be Kylo is sure he doesn’t know.

“I like it.” He brings one hand up to tentatively run his fingers through the silky locks. “Is this alright?” He breathes.

“Oh, um, yeah.” She responds breathlessly. “It’s not – it’s not clean.” She warns.

“I don’t care.” He responds with a light chuckle. He wants to touch her hair, dirty or no. It’s not like he’s had the opportunity to jump in a sonic during his trek through the muggy jungle over the past few days.

He brings his other hand up and his fingers move on their own, muscle memory taking over, looping strand over strand, twisting the hair into a delicate design.

“Are you braiding my hair?” She giggles. He hums in confirmation. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Where do you think?” He huffs lightly. He feels her understanding crawl along their connection.

“Ah,”

Kylo continues his plaiting, finding the act relaxing, almost meditative. He always has. He’d always enjoyed braiding his mother’s hair when she would let him, and he enjoyed it almost as much when she would braid his hair, though it had never been very long when he was a child. He’d been a teenager when he realized that his mother was _wrong_ , he would never grow into his ears, so he’d chosen to grow his hair out to hide them instead.

His knuckles brush the skin of her neck every now and again and it’s like he can feel the cold winds of Hoth whipping around him for a second, sinking into him bone deep. He tells himself that is why he shivers every time he does it.

“Ben,”

His braiding has revealed the soft skin just behind her ear and it’s just so tempting, he can’t help himself. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the cool patch of skin, his nose brushing the shell of her ear. His lips buzz at the contact and for a moment he thinks he can see the vast, snowy expanse spread before her.

“Mhm?”

“What’s your favorite color?” She asks, leaning into his touch as he presses another kiss into the exposed skin of her neck.

“What?” He laughs. Actually laughs, fully, from the surprise of her question. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Just curious.” She says with a shrug. He can sense that’s not the only reason and wants to press her, but she continues. “So, what’s your favorite color? And if you say black – I swear…”

“It’s not black.” He finishes a thin braid and tucks it in amongst the others, adding it to the design. “What’s yours?”

“That’s not fair.” She snorts indignantly. “I asked you first.”

“I need time to think about it.” He tells her truthfully. He hasn’t had the chance to think about something as innocent as a ‘favorite’ color in nearly a decade. He’s not sure he has one.

He thinks of blue, soft, like the color of the sky on a clear, calm day, or deep, like the lake outside of his family’s residence on Naboo – but blue also makes him think of the bright, brilliant shade of his lightsaber’s blade, the way it used to be, before. No, blue has too much weight – so does red, for that matter. Orange, like the color of the setting sun can be quite nice, warm, comforting.

“Green.” Rey says plainly.

“Why?” Kylo inquires with genuine curiosity.

“There was nothing green on Jakku – well, nothing but the veg-meat from the ration packs – nothing… _alive_.” He can feel her warm contentment as she speaks. He looks up into the canopy above, the starlight trying, and failing, to shine through the thick layer of leaves. He can see the green above him, even in the darkness, thanks to the light of his fire. “That’s what green is, it’s life. It’s the most beautiful color there is.”

Her words are so convincing, that Kylo finds himself humming in agreement as he wraps his arms around her torso to pull her closer to him. He can feel her heartbeat even through the layers of their clothes, its rhythm is the same as his own, like they beat together, like they always have, or, were always meant to. Being close to her like this, it makes everything quiet – not the bad kind of quiet, the empty, confusing kind. It’s like peace, or, what he assumes that must feel like.

He thinks of green now. The green, swaying grass of Chandrilla, the leaves in the trees above – the beauty of nature he has always taken for granted because it was always just there. Perhaps green is a loaded color as well, it is the color of Luke’s lightsaber, the one he’d tried to kill Kylo with. Still, he thinks of the green that shines through in Rey’s hazel eyes when the light hits them just right, the mossy green flecked with gold and he finds that he agrees with her, green might just be the most beautiful color there is.

“I think mine is green too.”

“That’s cheating.” She says with a soft shake of her head.

Kylo simply shrugs as his hands go back to braiding her hair. He can feel her shiver and the stiffen against him, palpable fear flows through her end of the bond and sends _his_ heart racing.

“What is it?” He asks, her panic seeping into his tone. He places both of his hands on her shoulders. “Rey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s colder but… it’s not right.” She whispers with a trembling breath. “There’s something here. Something cold, something dark.”

Kylo’s heart drops into his stomach like a stone, heavy and cold. He looks up into the tree line. He couldn’t be here, Kylo would know if Vader was here, right? He and Rey are silent for a long moment, the only sounds around him are the calls of the nocturnal fauna all around him and then… the metallic, rattling, rasping breath of the mechanized Sith Lord. Kylo is on his feet in an instant, his saber hilt in his hand.

“Kylo Ren.” Vader says and it sounds so wrong, and not just because of the unnatural static in his grandfather’s voice. “We meet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think that Luke and Leia took the news really well! Seriously though, poor Bail, Obi Wan really left the guy in the lurch by up and dying like that. I wonder who the old friend is? That will be exciting to see! 👀😜
> 
> Romance blooms on Hoth! (And on Yavin, I suppose, as the boy is still stuck there) Han and Leia are being their very best volatile selves (me to them: fight! fight! fight! kiss! kiss! kiss!) While Kylo/ Ben and Rey have the softest, fluffiest, most hair-braidingest Force-Time I could muster! Seriously, I'm such a sap! I mean look at those two, snugglin' it up across time and space! My sweet space babies! 💖😂 It's too bad grandpa crashed the party - will those kids ever get to have a romantic Force-Tim without some Skywalker busting in to ruin the moment? Only time will tell, I suppose.
> 
> This was probably my favorite chapter to write so far - it just has everything my heart desires on a constant basis: dramatic familial reveals, hanleia fight-flirting, romantic hair braiding, Darth Vader... it's got it all, baby! Haha! I hope you all enjoyed reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, thank you all so, so much for the bookmarks, comments and kudos - I love hearing from you all, it always brightens my day! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	15. A Stroll Down Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We do not need to fight; we can work together.” He assures his grandson, who makes no move to attack, but neither does he let his guard down.
> 
> “And why would I want to do that?” The man asks, his grip around his lightsaber hilt tensing, his face set in a hard scowl.
> 
> \---
> 
> Come on down to the rematch of the century, grandfather vs grandson - the rumble in the jungle, only this time Kylo's got an ace up his sleeve. Luke's still reeling from yet another family reveal, and is sorely in need of some hugs. Team Cinnamon Roll reunites!

Vader can feel the moment his grandson’s Force signature pops back into the web of the living Force. Why has he decided to lift his shields? Perhaps he has fallen asleep, it is the middle of the night after all, or, perhaps he is trying to lure Vader into a trap – either explanation is foolishness, pure and simple.

Vader cuts a path towards the pulsating presence in the Force as quickly as his damaged cybernetics will allow. It feels different somehow, his grandson’s Force signature. It is lighter now, as though nearly all of the darkness has been washed away – what could have possibly happened over the past couple of days? There are other subtle ways in which it seems changed, differences that Vader cannot place or name, but he knows they are there.

He finds his grandson in a small clearing with a girl, _the_ girl, the one from the future – it is strange though, Vader cannot sense her at all, only his grandson. Is she shielding her presence? Vader investigates his grandson’s Force signature further, brushing against it. It is the _girl_ who shudders. That is… odd.

Also odd is her choice of attire. Clothing choice is not something Vader usually pays much attention to, if he pays it any mind at all. However, they are in a jungle and while Vader cannot feel the temperature or the humidity trapped as he is in his suit, he does remember what jungles feel like, and he does know that a thick parka and snow pants are less than appropriate apparel.

He can overhear them speaking, the girl senses Vader, the cold, dark presence of his Force signature and his grandson jumps up, lightsaber hilt flying to his hand. It had been a mistake to leave the confiscated lightsabers unattended in his grandson’s cell back on the Death Star, but there is no use dwelling on that now.

“Kylo Ren,” Vader begins, the sound of his voice is wrong, too much static. It would seem that his vocoder has also been damaged. He uses his grandson’s chosen name, hopeful that this will grant him some good will with the man. He would prefer to not have to fight him this time if possible. “We meet again.”

His grandson’s Force signature flares to life, the dark, murky grey that Vader had sensed before, meaning that the pressence he had followed here… belongs to the girl? Vader reaches out with the Force, their signatures are like twins, with only very slight, nearly imperceptible differences and the Force flows between the two of them like water, like their power is a _shared_ one. It is like nothing Vader has ever seen before.

Vader steps further into the clearing and his grandson’s lightsaber is ignited as well, crackling and snarling in his hand. Vader reaches for the hilt of his own saber but does not ignite it. He still hopes to win the cooperation of his grandson without violence, if possible. The girl’s blade– Vader’s old blade, broken once and now repaired – flares to life as well. He notices how his grandson steps almost unconsciously in front of the girl, a defensive gesture.

“That lightsaber.” Vader turns his mask to face the girl as he slowly approaches, calling on the Force to support his right leg, to keep the slight limp out of his step. “It belongs to me.” He taunts.

“Well, it called to me.” She snarls. Such anger, she could use it well, if she knew how.

Is his grandson her master? Vader has seen master-apprentice bonds, but none like the connection between the man and this girl. That would also not explain the girl’s Light. Vader knows that his grandson calls on the Dark Side of the Force, even if the Light still glows within him, the girl is almost purely Light. Surely his grandson would show her the power of the Dark Side were he her master.

“Where are my children?” Vader asks, drawing ever closer to the pair. He watches his grandson tense even further. He reaches back to push the girl further behind him, but she skirts away from his grasp, holding the hilt of her blade defensively in front of her.

“We do not need to fight; we can work together.” He assures his grandson, who makes no move to attack, but neither does he let his guard down.

“And why would I want to do that?” The man asks, his grip around his lightsaber hilt tensing, his face set in a hard scowl.

“I can show you the power of the Dark Side, help you to quiet the conflict in you.”

The man eyes Vader warily, his still-ignited lightsaber held in the tight grip of both hands. His shoulders tense, the muscles under his left eye twitch. Vader can sense the man’s conflict, it is so powerful, so all-consuming, Vader can feel it within himself, it is a near physical pain. The man’s eyes dart over to the girl on his left who watches him nervously.

“I can feel it, it is tearing you apart.” Vader does not step closer to the pair, he’s still unsure of his grandson’s allegiances, of his purpose here in the past.

“I can help you, grandson.” Vader says, the last word feeling and sounding so very foreign. “You could be more powerful than you can even imagine.” He promises. “Take me to my children, and…”

The girl propels herself upwards with the Force, swinging the blade of his former lightsaber at him. It is blue, he remembers it well. Vader ignites his lightsaber and draws it upward to block her strike, but she passes through his blade harmlessly, landing on the ground behind him.

Vader whirls around. She seems just as confused and surprised as he feels. He pushes her backwards with the Force, mostly to see if he can. She skids backwards in the soft dirt, though no tracks are left behind. The lightsaber at her side is cast out sideways. Something small, like grains or beads, pours out of the empty air where her blade slices through it, scattering loosely on the ground below. It looks like snow is falling on her hair.

What is happening? Is the girl projecting herself through the Force? Surely not, unless she is far more powerful than he has been led to believe. Vader reaches out one hand and lifts the girl into the air. He can feel her trying to break his hold over her, but the effort is in vain.

It only takes the lightest push against her mind for her pitiful shields to crumple like paper, like there had been nothing there at all. He reaches for the answers, how is she here?

He sees his grandson, a cluster of small, ancient-looking huts made of stacked stones stand behind him, one sporting a large, smoking hole in the wall. He is dressed in a padded, black, armored tunic, his eyes dark, confused and searching.

_You’re not doing this. The effort would kill you._

As Vader suspected, this is not a Force projection. She’s done this before, it would seem.

_Can you see my surroundings? I can’t see yours – Just you. So no, this is something else._

Vader’s attention is ripped away from the girl’s memories when grandson attacks on Vader’s left with a heavy, angry swing. The man roars as he attacks, his face twisted into an angry snarl. Hate swirls around him in a thick cloud of pure power. Vader does not need to release his hold on the girl to block the man’s attack. His grandson comes at him with a quick succession of brutal strikes, managing to drive Vader back towards the edge of the tree line.

Vader needs to learn where his children have gone and it is clear that neither of them will be _telling_ him. He reaches back into the girl’s mind. Once inside, he probes for any information on his son, visions pass by his mind in an instant. He sees a man, clearly his son but much older, older even than he had been in Vader’s grandson’s vision, the older Luke’s hair and beard are unkept, more grey than blond or even brown, wrinkles line his blue eyes. He looks angry, upset.

_The legacy of the Jedi is failure. Hypocrisy. Hubris._

Vader feels an overwhelming surge of pride for his son, but then Luke continues.

_At the height of their powers they allowed Darth Sidious to rise, create the Empire, and wipe them out. It was a Jedi Master who was responsible for the training and creation of Darth Vader._

The pride fizzles, turning to something colder, more confused.

 _And a Jedi who saved him!_ The girl now, he can tell by her Coruscanti accent. _You saw that there was conflict in him. You believed that he wasn’t gone, he could be turned._

Vader nearly flinches out of her mind at that. Conflict? There is no conflict inside of Vader. He cannot, will never be _turned_. The girl must be confused, though his son does not correct her. Whatever this girl believes to have happened in the future, it is impossible.

In his shock, Vader is almost too slow to block his grandson’s next attack, striking at Vader now with a furious, almost manic energy. The air thrums with anger and hatred.

A new memory forms. He sees his grandson now, dressed in full, black armor, a cape slung over his shoulders. Dark circles hang under the man’s eyes, the scar bisecting his face redder, fresher. He looks down on the girl with cold calculation, nothing like the concern he looks on her with now.

 _Why is the Force connecting us like this – you and I?_ He asks, taking a step towards the girl.

 _Murderous snake!_ She shoots at him. If he is taken aback, he does not show it. She continues. _You’re too late, I found Skywalker!_

Vader’s grandson sends a fallen log hurtling at him, but Vader manages to slice through the object easily with his blade, filling the air with thick smoke.

Vader pulls once more at the thread of memory and he sees Luke again, he holds a lightsaber over the seeping form of Vader’s grandson, green light reflecting in his blue eyes which show wild, murderous intent. The scene flashes by almost too quickly to process, but Vader remembers the vision well, it is one his grandson has already shown him.

 _He had sensed my power, as he senses yours._ The man explains, his voice softer now. _And he feared it_. _Let the past die, kill it if you have to. It’s the only way to become what you were meant to be_.

Something about that last phrase rings familiar to Vader, as though he has heard it before, but where?

Vader slides along the thread to the next memory, searching for any mention of his son, his daughter, their whereabouts. Instead, he finds himself staring at his grandson again, now coated in sweat and soot and grime, his breathing is labored. The floor is littered with bodies dressed in crimson armor, much like the Emperor’s Imperial Guards.

A dead alien lies on the floor at his grandson’s feet, well, the top half of the alien anyway. The bottom half still sits in a throne-like chair, set upon a dais. Red fabric burns around them, revealing large viewports gazing out into space.

 _It’s time to let old things die._ His grandson says, his focus solely on the dead form of what Vader believes to be the man’s former master, the one he had killed. _Rey, I want you to join me._ He looks at the girl now. _Snoke, Skywalker, the Sith, the Jedi, the rebels? Let it all die. We can rule together, bring a new order to the galaxy._

 _Don’t do this, Ben. Please don’t go this way_. The girl begs, her voice wavering.

The man is closer now.

 _You have no place in this story. You come from_ nothing _. You’re nothing – but not to me. Join me._ He reaches a hand out to her in supplication, his eyes softening. _Please._

Vader tries to push himself into the next memory but finds himself pulled – not out of the girl’s mind, but into his grandson’s. It is like he has slid along the fluid connection that binds them, though that should not be possible. Even the strongest master-apprentice bonds are not capable of bridging minds so seamlessly.

“Get out of her head!” Vader can hear his grandson grit out in the real world. The man has stopped fighting, his lightsaber snarling at his side, his free hand extended towards Vader. The man’s lips are curled up into a cruel sneer, teeth bared.

A new memory forms, this one his grandson’s. A great expanse of white is spread before him, snow, if Vader has to guess. The soil or rock underneath is blood red, much of it scorched black as if there has been a fire. A large metal door built into a rock face, a hole blasted into the middle of it. Vader’s son, looking younger than he had in the girl’s memory, lightsaber hilt in hand, though it is not ignited.

_I failed you, Ben. I’m sorry._

_I’m sure you are!_ Vader’s grandson spits. _The Resistance is dead. The war is over. And when I kill you, I’ll have killed the last Jedi._

 _I will not be the last Jedi._ Vader’s son responds calmly, confidently.

Vader has suspected since his interrogation of his grandson on the Death Star that, somehow, his son becomes a Jedi in the future, in the _possible_ future. The confirmation of this suspicion is met with cold anger. He will not allow this future to happen.

 _Rey_. The man spits the name out like it is poisonous, like the act of tasting it on his lips was liable to kill him. _I’ll destroy her, you, and all of it. Know that._

Vader _is_ ejected from his grandson’s mind at that and he can feel the man pushing against his own shields which bend but do not break. Vader bears down on his grandson who grabs the arm of the girl next to him, pushing up the thick sleeve of her parka to grasp the bare flesh of her forearm. The Force sings around them, glows with pulsating power. He throws his free arm out at Vader, hand open. Suddenly, the world fades again, but now the two of them are inside of Vader’s mind.

His head is spinning, his skin is burning, his breathing is labored as he watches the familiar lava plains of Mustafar materialize before him. He pushes against the memory, but the combined power of his grandson and the girl is too much. Padmé is in front of him looking terrified and very sad.

Vader can feel his anger rising, rage replacing his blood. This is not for them to see. He will destroy them; he will destroy them both. He will wrench the location of his children along with their knowledge of the future from their minds, he will tear through their memories, shred their souls. They will beg him for a swift death and he will show them no such mercy.

 _Obi Wan told me terrible things. He said you turned to the Dark Side, that you – killed younglings._ Her voice trembles with the sheer horror of what he’d done.

He couldn’t explain to her, she never would have understood. What he did to – for those younglings, it had been a mercy. He had spared them from a life of slavery, of servitude to the Jedi and their corruption. Padmé would not have understood, she was still blind to the lies of the Order, blind to how corrupt they’d become. If only he had been able to make her see.

 _Obi Wan is trying to turn you against me._ Vader hears his own voice, his old voice, and it is a shock to him how soft it sounds, how young, how bizarrely human.

_Anakin, all I want is your love._

_Love can’t save you, Padmé. Only my new powers can do that_. Vader responds, pleading for her to understand. If only he’d known that his plea was a lie. Nothing could save her.

 _Come away with me_. She begs, panic in her eyes. _Help me raise our child, leave everything behind while we still can._

 _Don’t you see? We don’t have to run away anymore._ Vader says, trying to convince her, trying to make her see. _I have brought peace to the Republic. I am more powerful than the Chancellor, I can overthrow him, and together, you and I can rule the galaxy, make things the way we want them to be._

She backs away from him, frightened.

_I don’t know you anymore. Anakin, you’re breaking my heart. You’re going down a path I can’t follow._

He sees Obi Wan now in the mouth of Padmé’s ship. She had brought him there, brought him there to _kill_ Vader. Padmé is choking, grasping at her throat and just like last time, it takes Vader a moment to realize that _he_ is doing it. She falls to the ground limp but alive. He had _known_ she was alive. Sidious lied. Vader did not kill her, she survived to give birth to their children. He calls on the building fire of his anger and pushes the two intruders out of his mind.

He looks up at his grandson and the girl as the real world slips back into view, when did he end up on the ground? How had they managed to overpower him? A feat many have tried and failed, losing their lives in the process. They are both staring at him intently, the girl’s eyes are full of pain and heartache and confusion, Vader’s grandson’s are decidedly not. The man’s dark eyes burn like coals, his hand still outstretched. He closes it into a tight fist and before Vader can do anything to fight back, the world fades into darkness.

* * *

“What just happened?” Rey asks breathlessly. Her hands are shaking, her lightsaber hilt on the ground somewhere nearby, lost in the snow; she’d dropped it when Vader had invaded her mind, her hands flying up to claw at her scalp, she calls it to her hand. Ben’s hand is still wrapped around her forearm, almost a little too tightly.

“I -” He seems to sense her discomfort and lets go of her immediately, taking a cautionary step back. Rey can no longer see Vader, his form now belongs solely in Ben’s world. “I don’t know.” He confesses, his eyes focused on something Rey cannot see, likely his grandfather.

“Is he… dead?” Rey asks, swallowing hard around nothing but air. What would that mean for the future if he is?

“No,” Ben responds coolly, but the way he says it, that look in his eyes, the same look he’d had when he’d looked down at Snoke’s body after everything on the _Supremacy_. It makes Rey think Ben sees his grandfather’s survival as a mistake he wants to correct.

“You can’t kill him.” She says firmly. Ben swings around to look at her now, his eyes burning.

“Why not?” He growls, his lips curling angrily. He turns his attention back to where Rey believes the unconscious form of his grandfather to be. She watches his grip tighten and loosen around the hilt of his lightsaber, like he’s making a decision. “We’d all be much safer without him, the _galaxy_ would…” But his reasoning cuts short, he closes his eyes, his jaw tightens. His body tensing, he tucks the hilt of his saber into one of the pockets of his flight suit.

“You need to get out of there, Ben.” She approaches slowly, easily sensing his agitation, though it doesn’t seem to be directed at her. “How long until he…”

“A few hours.” He says tersely, his eyes never leaving the man she cannot see.

“Find somewhere safe, I’ll get Han and the others and…”

“No!” Ben turns to her again, his face grave, his eyes wide. “They need to stay as far away from Vader as possible, juts keep them there and I’ll come to you.”

“How?” Rey takes another step towards him and his face softens, though the panic does not leave his eyes. “You’re not safe, Ben, please, let me…”

“I’m close to the temple now, there are people there, I can feel it.” He says, trying to sound reassuring, surely. “I’ll find a ship and come meet you.”

“Ben, I –” She reaches up and places one hand on his face. She wishes that she weren’t wearing a glove, there’s something about when she touches him, his skin, it makes her head swim, makes the universe seem right. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be there.” He turns his face and presses a kiss into the palm of her hand. She can almost feel it through the thick material of her glove. “I _promise_.” His eyes implore her to believe him.

Something twitches in her stomach, something like anxiety and fear. Fear for his safety, anxiety stemming from a dread as old as she is, from a familiar lie, the lie she’d repeated over and over in her mind to soothe herself to sleep over many countless nights, though she’d tried to count them with tallies scratched on thick, metal walls. _I’ll come back, sweetheart. I promise_.

She looks up at Ben, at his deep, dark, beseeching eyes. Something at the very core of her tells her to believe him, that he is not lying. He’s never lied to her, not really, even when he’d told her that she wasn’t alone. Yes, they’d both left each other alone after Crait, but she knows that it never would have lasted. There’s something about the very nature of their bond, what they are to each other, that ensures they can never leave the other for very long.

She nods because she cannot speak, cannot pass any sound around the thick lump in her throat.

“Rey, I –” He starts, but a sound from behind Rey cuts him off. Rey’s head twists on its axis, craning over her neck towards the sound of someone approaching.

“Rey?” It’s Luke. “Are you back here, I… Whoa! What happened here?”

Rey’s head whips back around to where Ben is. How will she explain… But Ben is gone, her hand hovering in open, empty air. She looks back to Luke who is surveying the mess she’d made during her fight with Vader. A few of the metal crates have deep slashes cut into them, bright-blue grains litter the snow.

“I – what?” She asks, her mouth and her mind on different wave lengths.

“What happened – Rey, are you alright?”

Luke looks her up and down and Rey takes a moment to consider her rather disheveled appearance, freezing tears leaving icy tracks down her face – she hadn’t even realized that she’d been crying. She wipes at the tears with the sleeve of her parka, the material feels like it cuts at the sensitive flesh of her cheeks in the cold.

“I’m fine,” She isn’t though, she _really_ isn’t. Her head still throbs from Vader’s invasion and her body is vibrating from the emotional whiplash of the past hour or so – the warmth and near bliss of sitting with Ben in front of a fire on a moon in an entirely different star system to terror and pain during the encounter with Vader.

Luke quirks an eyebrow as he looks at the mess around her, the lightsaber in her hand, and back to her face, which is surely bright red from exhaustion and the cold. She is still panting slightly, as though she’s just run a great distance or fought a Sith Lord thousands of lightyears away. She can tell that he doesn’t believe her, but he doesn’t press her on it either, which is a relief.

“What’s all this about?” He motions a gloved hand at the mess on the ground and the damaged crates.

Rey opens her mouth and closes it again a few times, struck dumb by the similarity of this situation to the first time she and Ben had connected.

“Ah - um… Accident.” She says, raising the hand still grasping her lightsaber hilt slightly. It is, perhaps, the least believable lie she’s ever told.

Luke looks around at the scene before him yet again and eyes her quizzically. She’s entirely sure he doesn’t buy it but would seem that he doesn’t care to further this line of questioning. He gestures to the mess on the ground.

“Do you need any help cleaning this up?”

“No, thank you.” Rey says, tucking her hair back under her hood and pulling the goggles back over her nearly frozen eyes. She raises her hand and the toppled crates right themselves. There’s nothing to be done for the lost, blue grain, but she tips the crate it spilled from in such a way that they will not lose any more. Luke watches her wide-eyed behind his own protective lenses.

“I really need to talk to you about something.” He says taking a tentative step towards her once the mess is mostly straightened up. “I’m just… I don’t know where to start.”

Rey wants to tell him that she needs a moment, a few moments really. She’d just fought his father, for one, and she is still emotionally processing everything she’d seen, the memory from Ben’s mind and from Vader’s. Who had that woman been? Luke and Leia’s mother? It only takes one glance at Luke, at his tired, worried eyes, at the slump of his shoulders, for her to push away all thought of delaying this conversation – it’s clear he needs someone.

Rey looks up to the sky. The sun is setting, painting the snowy landscape in blues and purples and pinks. Having grown up in the desert, Rey is well aware of how much the sun going down can affect the temperature of a place. For all that Jakku could fry your skin and mind during the day when the sun was high, it was freezing at night, and Rey is not interested in seeing just how much colder Hoth can get once the sun sets.

“We should head inside, we can talk there.”

Luke nods in agreement and follows Rey back into the base. She’s not sure where they should go at first until she happens upon the mess hall and her stomach reminds her just how hungry she is. She and Luke both grab trays high with food that reminds her more of what they serve in the Resistance and less of the breakfast she’d had back on Alderaan, but at least it’s hot. They find an empty table away from everyone and sit down across from each other.

Rey waits a while for Luke to start but after minutes of picking distractedly at his food she starts for him.

“So, you wanted to talk?”

“Um,” He raises his blue eyes to look at her, but doesn’t lift his head. “Yeah, I just… What do you know about Darth Vader?”

“Oh,” She should have prepared herself for this question, or something like it. She’s not sure what she can tell Luke, or what she should. Frankly, she knows very little of Vader, mostly rumors and scary stories told around community fires in Niima Outpost along with what she’s been able to gather from Leia who does not speak of the old Sith Lord very much. “Well, I know that he’s a Sith.”

“A Sith?”

“From what I understand,” She begins, knowing, that her understanding of the subject is very limited. “Sith is a religion, like the Jedi, only their users draw on the Dark Side of the Force.”

“The Dark Side.” Luke repeats as though perhaps testing the words, tasting them. “Bail mentioned -” He shakes his head, deciding against that line of thought. “What is the Dark Side, exactly?”

Rey purses her lips as she thinks on how to answer that question. She thinks of the future Luke, the one she met on Ahch To, the one who was so terrified of the Dark Side he tried to kill his defenseless nephew in his sleep, the one who was so upset by Rey’s giving in to the call of the dark cave that he refused to train her further.

“It’s an… aspect of the Force. There are two ‘sides’ I suppose, the Light and the Dark. People who use the Dark pull power from emotions like anger, hatred, passion, fear - people who use the Light call on peace, compassion.” Rey explains as best she can, remembering what she’s been able to read in the ancient Jedi texts and what Leia’s been able to explain.

“So, the Dark Side is evil?” Luke asks, his voice sounding very small.

“Um, well…” Rey begins, unsure how she should answer. “I don’t know about _evil_ … I think it can corrupt. I’ve, well, I’ve felt it.” She admits shyly, her eyes dipping down to her half-eaten, rapidly cooling food. When Luke says nothing, she continues. “It… calls to you, pulls at you when you’re feeling vulnerable, I think. It promises things, answers, power, whatever you want, but I don’t think it ever really gives it to you.”

Rey looks back up to see Luke Skywalker, future Jedi Master, listening to her with rapt attention, his eyes wide. He nods, as if imploring her to continue, but she doesn’t really know much more on the subject. Her training thus far has very much avoided much mention of the Dark Side of the Force, which both Leia and the Jedi texts seem to be quite biased against.

“I don’t know that much more, I’m still in training myself.” Rey says with an apologetic shrug as she scoops a bit more food into her mouth, determined to finish before it freezes solid in front of her eyes. “Sorry.”

“You have someone training you?” Luke asks, finally paying some mind to the meal in front of him. “Is it Ben?”

Rey nearly chokes on her food as she lets out a sound half-way between a cough and a laugh. _He wishes_ , she thinks to herself.

“Um, no…” She says shaking her head, a small, secret smile playing on her lips. “I did, have a master, that is, two actually, but they’re… not around anymore.” Is that technically a lie?

“Oh,” Luke says softly, his eyebrows knitting together in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

They eat together in mostly companionable silence until Luke sighs, catching Rey’s attention. He opens his mouth as though he is about to say something but then closes it again quickly.

“I wanted to thank you… for everything.” He begins, shooting her a rather sad smile. “For saving me on Tatooine, for teaching me about the Force, for… getting us all off of the Death Star. I’d like to thank Ben too, is he around?”

“Oh, no, he’s not. He’s been… delayed.” She explains. “And you’re welcome, is everything alright, Luke?”

“Yeah,” He agrees, but it doesn’t sound like the truth, nor does it feel like it. The word rings around in the Force like a discordant note. “I just - Leia and I are leaving, and I wanted to…”

“Leaving?” Rey asks, her hands hitting the table sending her utensils clattering on to the cold, icy floor below. Luke looks at her in surprise, eyes wide. A few other heads in in attention at her outburst. “Uh, sorry,” She mutters to the crowd before turning her attention back to Luke, leaning forward across the table and keeping her voice low. “What do you mean, you’re _leaving_? Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Leia’s father… Bail, he says it’s somewhere safe. We’re in, um, danger.” Luke offers shyly.

“You can’t leave!” Rey cries, her mind racing a mile a minute. She needs to keep everyone together, Ben had been right about that. If they all separate again, there’s no telling what will happen. “You’re safe here,” She assures. “With the Rebellion, and…”

“Darth Vader is my father.” Luke blurts out quickly, his eyes quickly shoot down to the table.

It takes a long moment before Rey realizes that this information _should_ be a surprise to her.

“Oh,” She tries to sound shocked, but she’s never been an especially good actress.

“Mine and Leia’s.” He looks up at Rey now, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t know, neither of us did, but he knows and, I guess we’re in danger and…” Tears start pouring down his cheeks. He turns his face away to hide it from Rey, but she’s already seen. She slips out of her seat and slides in next to him on his bench. She wraps one arm around his shoulders and pulls him into her.

“I don’t know what to do,” He confesses, his voice thick with tears. “I heard him, in my head, and he saved my life, but he tortured Ben, and killed the Jedi and… I’m so confused.” He babbles through heavy, heaving sobs and Rey’s not quite sure what he’s talking about, but she holds him through it.

She wants to be there for Luke, to comfort him when he is so very clearly in distress, but her mind is elsewhere, running in circles trying to figure out how to keep everyone together in time for Ben to get to the base, then they can reassess. Her heart is beating too quickly, she can still feel Vader’s claws in her mind. She doesn’t know what to do. Luke’s arms wrap around her as tears start pouring down her cheeks as well. They stay like that for a while, holding each other and crying as their food gets cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, what's a dyad? 🤣 But like, really though, what is it besides 'two that are one' and 'a power like life itself' - I've read a lot on it in both the novelization of TROS and online, and there are no clear rules (as of yet), so let's have some fun with it, yeah? Haha! In my mind, Kylo/ Ben and Rey can only physically interact with each other, but other Force sensitives can see them (ex. Luke seeing/ sensing Benji in the explicit hand-holding scene in TLJ) 🤝💖
> 
> Speaking of which, do you guys remember The Last Jedi and Revenge of the Sith? Those were fun movies! I sure like them, I hoped you enjoyed my re-telling of some of my favorite scenes from those movies. 😂 Believe it or not, I held myself back with this one. I could honestly write chapter after chapter of characters re-living each other's memories and just being like 😮 'wow, that's crazy!' Haha!
> 
> Darth Grandpa is decidedly NOT happy with his grandson or his girlfriend right now. I mean, Kylo was already on thin ice, but now... Boy's gonna get it, at least the Skywalkers still have all the limbs they started this story with! 😉👌 Lets see how long that lasts!
> 
> Bless Rey and Luke's Force lessons, it's really the blind leading the blind out here, but she's trying her best. They're both going through a lot!
> 
> Thank you all so much, as always, for the wonderfully kind comments and bookmarks and kudos (this fic reached 500 kudos the other day, I cannot tell you how blown away I am! 💖) I sincerely love hearing from you all! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	16. From Ben to Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Becoming one with the Force has its advantages,” Kenobi smiles slyly as though he’s read his mind, perhaps he has. He’s one with the Force now, of course, Luke had mentioned something like that. Does that mean…
> 
> “Do you know why we’re here? Rey and I?”
> 
> “No, I don’t. Even omniscience has its limitations it would seem.” Kenobi says with an almost playful air as he tucks his ghostly hands into his sleeves. “All I know is that the Force has big plans for the two of you. That’s the only explanation I have as to how I was able to be killed by sand people.”
> 
> \---
> 
> A meeting of the Bens, Rey and Leia dish about different hairstyles and their abundant meanings, and then Luke ad Leia meet a couple of old rebels - what is this, a crossover episode?

The man who called himself Kylo Ren looks down at the man who calls himself Darth Vader, at the man whose legacy has dominated his future since before Kylo was born, since before Ben Solo was born. His family had feared he was too much like his grandfather, had inherited too much of his darkness and anger. His master had hoped he would be more like Vader, a true successor to the throne of Dark power. He’d never been able to please either one.

Perhaps, in the end, he’d not been too much like Vader, but he’d been too much like himself, and maybe all that could ever lead to was disappointment. Ben Solo had never been enough for anyone, or perhaps he’d been too much - either way, once those in his life realized that he could never be what they wanted, they left him, or, he left them, that is the way of his world, or, it had been.

Rey had left him, she’d left him even when he’d begged her to stay.

_Rey, I want you to join me. We can rule together, bring a new order to the galaxy._

_Together, you and I can rule the galaxy, make things the way we want them to be._

Perhaps, he realizes only now, it had not been so one sided. Rey had disappointed him, to say the least, broken his heart and, at the time, he’d thought she’d broken the last shred of humanity left in his soul. Maybe he’d disappointed her too.

_Don’t do this, Ben. Please, don’t go this way._

_Anakin, you’re breaking my heart. You’re going down a path I can’t follow._

She’d offered him something he knew, he thought, he could never accept - joining the Resistance, going _home_ , whatever that meant, facing his mother. How could he do any of that after what he’d done to get where he was, after what he had sacrificed? How could he pass up the opportunity for such power with the Dark Side whispering so tantalizingly in his ear, plying him with visions of himself and Rey on matching thrones, their combined power something to be both feared and revered?

Maybe he’d offered her something she could not accept either, both of them embarking on paths the other could not follow.

He’d threatened to destroy her on Crait, promised to kill her, and he’d meant every word then. He’d wanted to destroy everything, burn down the galaxy and himself with it. He didn’t care about Rey or Luke or the Resistance or the First Order in that moment, only the pain threatening to tear him apart had meant anything to him. He’d wanted to spread that agony as far and wide as he possibly could, to maybe dilute it, let some of it leech out of his skin and poison someone else for a while.

What had Vader felt, then, when his pregnant wife had begged him to leave with her? What had he felt when she’d rejected his offer of the galaxy, when he’d seen his former master, surely brought there to kill him? He doesn’t really need the answers, he’d felt Vader’s pain, the deep well of misery and anger and hate as though it were fresh, as though the events from that vision had truly just happened.

What had his grandmother felt as Vader choked her, his rage overtaking any better sense he’d ever possessed? How would Kylo have done it had he found Rey in that base on Crait, if she hadn’t managed to escape and save both the Resistance and him? Would he have run her through with his blade in the same way he’d slaughtered his father? Would he want to watch the life slowly leave her eyes as Vader had done for his own wife? The very thought makes him feel violently ill now.

“Ben,”

He whips his head around at the sound. The voice is familiar, vaguely, though it is not one he knows well, and no one left on this moon should know his name. There, standing on the other side of Vader’s unconscious body, is Obi Wan Kenobi, his form translucent, tinted blue and glowing around the edges.

“Kenobi,” How does Kenobi know his true name? Rey had introduced him as ‘Kylo’ back on Tatooine and he’d died before she changed her mind about who he was.

“Becoming one with the Force has its advantages,” Kenobi answers with a sly smile as though he’s read his mind, and perhaps he has. He’s one with the Force now, of course, Luke had mentioned something like that happening to his former masters. Does that mean…

“Do you know why we’re here? Rey and I?”

“No, I don’t. Even omniscience has its limitations it would seem.” Kenobi says with an almost playful air as he tucks his ghostly hands into his sleeves. “All I know is that the Force has big plans for the two of you. That’s the only explanation I have as to how I was able to be killed by _sand people_.”

“If it makes you feel better, _he_ kills you in my past.” Vader’s grandson offers, gesturing with one hand at the Sith Lord between them.

Kenobi’s face falls as he looks on at his former padawan, any humor that had been in his eyes before has vanished giving way to a deep, decades-long sorrow.

“It doesn’t.” Kenobi says, his voice low, his eyes never leaving Vader. When he does finally look up, his gaze still holds that sadness. “Luke was right, you know. He did fail you, as I failed _him_.” He inclines his head towards the man on the ground.

The man who has called himself Kylo Ren for the past seven years of his life, who has been called ‘Ben’ by everyone around him for the past week and a half and finds that he minds it less and less with every passing day, has nothing to say to that. He doesn’t want to think about Luke. He doesn’t know what to think about Luke.

“I was so young when Anakin came to us, when I became his master, maybe I was too young - too young to be raising a nine-year-old child, in any case. I loved Anakin; he was my brother - but maybe it wasn’t a brother he needed.” Kenobi looks down at his former brother, his voice thick with shame. “I have so many regrets,” He confesses. “Maybe I should have done something about him and Padmé, either put an end to it or… openly accepted it? I knew, of course I knew, I wasn’t blind or a fool, but it seemed to make Anakin happy when so little else did in those days, so I said nothing. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to Mustafar, maybe Padmé really could have brought him back. Maybe…”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You’ve lived in his shadow for so long. I don’t know much of the future, that is clouded to even me, but I know how you have tried to follow in his footsteps.” Kenobi says knowingly. A strange sensation of shame follows his words. They’re true, no one can deny that, but now they carry the weight of wasted time and lives and pain. “You were saddled with a heavy burden from birth,”

Truer words have never been spoken. Born to rebel heroes, nephew to the last living Jedi, grandson of darkness, Ben Solo’s life had always felt heavy with destiny, dragged to the forefront of the galaxy by the legends of others. Named for the great ‘Ben Kenobi’, even his name had felt like something he’d had to earn, yet another failure in his path. That was why he’d created the name Kylo as a child, Kylo was someone without a past, without burden, unshackled by legacy. Kylo could be whoever he wanted; Ben Solo’s future was determined before he was born.

“That does not have to be your path, Ben.”

“I don’t want that,” The confession rips through his throat painfully, like the words are made of razors, but there’s no stopping them, not now. “Not anymore.”

“It isn’t too late.” Kenobi assures. There’s truth in his words, but how is that possible? After everything, after all of the times he’s faced this path and refused to take it, how can it still be a possibility for him?

How can he give up on the path he’d started the night Luke had tried to kill him? It feels like failure, like weakness, and yet, it also feels like a choice he can never be strong enough to make. The Dark pulls at his limbs, urging him to turn away from Kenobi, or to light his saber, feel the power of his blade, run it through Vader, the one who’d hurt Rey. The Light shines brightly from within, trying to burn away the darkness. They are at war within him.

“I don’t want it to be,” He finally admits, the words burning his tongue and yet relieving some pressure in his chest.

He does not know what these revelations mean for him, for his future. Several years ago, he’d dreamed he was stuck at the bottom of a deep hole, the walls far too steep and slick to climb, and he’d managed to convince himself that, if he only kept digging, he could come out on the other side. He feels like he is back in that hole, has felt like that since the events on Starkiller Base. He still doesn’t know how to climb to the top, but he feels like maybe he’s stopped digging.

“Is it true?” Kenobi’s gaze is set on Vader, but then he looks up. There are no tears in his eyes, but perhaps Force ghosts can’t cry. “That it isn’t too late for him either?”

“Yes, it’s true.” Vader’s turn back to the Light at the end of his life has always been a sore spot for Snoke and his apprentice. Kylo had feared it as he could never quite snuff out the Light inside of him, Snoke had seen it as a shameful thing, a fate to be ridiculed and avoided. Now, the admission of Vader’s return to the Light does not sting as it once had, does not taste like ashes any longer.

Kenobi smiles but says nothing as he slowly considers his former friend and his namesake. He nods once in quiet, peaceful acceptance and understanding.

“You should probably get going, he won’t be out forever.”

Ben nods quickly in thanks to the ghost of the old Jedi Master and turns, running off in the direction of the Great Temple. He is cutting through the thick brush of the familiar jungle long before the ghost of Obi Wan Kenobi disappears.

* * *

Rey spends that night lying awake for a long time thinking of the woman who had loved Darth Vader.

_Anakin, all I want is your love._

She thinks of the man who offered her the galaxy on a silver platter. The one with so much anger he’d choked her though she was full of his children. Clearly, he hadn’t killed her, she’d lived to give birth, but had he known that? Had he thought she died? Had he been relieved? Had he been able to feel anything through the thick cloud of anger and hate that surrounded him?

Rey cannot imagine Darth Vader loving anyone or anything. Though, after Starkiller Base she would have said the same thing about Kylo Ren. Monster, murderer, and, as she realized over the course of their connections across time and space, a man. Just a human man with a lot of pain and anger and loneliness which he hid behind that awful mask. What is behind Vader’s mask?

She thinks about the woman with the sad, brown eyes, the one who pleaded for him to not go down the dark path he had started.

_Anakin, you’re breaking my heart. You’re going down a path I can’t follow._

_Don’t do this, Ben. Please don’t go this way._

The similarity sends shivers down her spine that have nothing to do with the ever-present cold. Both of them had gone down that path, despite the woman’s and Rey’s pleas. They’d chosen power over love, or, the opportunity to not be alone. Ben had vowed to destroy her on Crait and something inside of Rey tells her that he’d meant it, that if he had found her and the Resistance that day, they’d all be gone. It is a cold realization, and a painful one as well.

Still, a week ago Rey had been convinced that she would have to kill Ben the next time she saw him, and though the very idea had been agony, she’d nearly managed to convince herself that Ben Solo was gone and all that remained was the mask, the shell he’d built around himself, Kylo Ren. She knows that’s not true now. Something has changed both within him and between them, though she still does not know where they stand or where he will stand when they get back home. Will he choose to stand beside Rey or will he choose power again? She wants to ask him, but she is afraid of what his answer might be.

She reaches up an ungloved hand to run her fingers along the braids Ben had woven into her hair. She’d taken a look in the mirror in her room after she and Luke had parted ways last night. The design he’d spun into her hair was so beautiful and delicate it nearly brought tears to her eyes, she only wished that she could see the back as well, though surely it is just as impressive.

It is difficult to imagine his hands, large as they are, his hands that have done the things they’ve done, creating something so delicate, working with such gentleness, but she’d been there, had experienced it for herself. It makes something warm bloom in her chest at the thought of it, something that she doesn’t have a name for.

Rey is not sure when she falls asleep, but when she wakes, she is immediately aware that whatever rest she did get was not enough, and that she will not be getting any more sleep anytime soon. Someone near her is very upset and they are projecting their hurt and anger and sorrow out into the Force.

She rises and throws on as many layers of clothing as she can, preparing herself for the frigid day ahead. She follows the feelings in the Force. They lead her to some sleeping quarters, not too far from her own. They are Leia’s rooms; Rey can feel her familiar Force presence glowing with emotion on the other side of the door. She raps her hand on the metal door a couple of times, the material of her glove dampening the sound slightly.

“Princess – Leia?” Rey calls out softly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Answers the slightly sniffly voice on the other side. “Rey, is that you?”

“It is, Princess.”

“Please, come in.”

The sniffling in Leia’s voice is nearly gone and Rey wonders how she’s able to pull herself together so quickly. It’s not the first time she’s thought about that. Rey had been a mess in the weeks following Crait. Of course, everyone had assumed Rey’s tears had been for Luke, and some of them had been, but most had been for Ben, for his choice, for her own. She hadn’t corrected anyone, how could she?

Still, Leia had been the perfect picture of leadership even after the loss of her husband and brother, after the betrayal of her son, even after an extended flight through open space – something Rey had only learned about recently. She envied Leia’s composure.

“And, really, Rey, Leia is fine.” Leia says with a smile as Rey enters her quarters, the skin around her eyes is slightly puffy as though she has been crying and the sight nearly breaks Rey’s heart.

Is this about Vader? Luke had said that neither of them had known. Rey cannot imagine what it must be like to learn something like that, to be tied to… Well, that’s not entirely true. She remembers how she had felt upon learning that the Force had connected her and Ben, anger, fear, a bizarre sense of betrayal with no one to blame. Still, to know that you owe your very existence to someone like Darth Vader, how can someone handle that?

“Is there something I can help you with, Rey?” Leia asks directly, if not politely, surely curious as to why Rey has sought her out.

“No, I, um, could feel you through the Force, that you were upset. I wanted to be sure…”

“Oh!” Leia sits up straighter on the edge of her bed. The answer has clearly surprised her. “I had no idea, I apologize.” Her voice is tight, her posture uncomfortable.

“No, don’t – don’t apologize,” Rey reassures her. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Rey is not going to bring up Vader. It seems… insensitive, and if Leia wants to talk about it, she will, Rey decides.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Leia stands, gesturing her hand in a flippant manner that Rey has become quite familiar with. “Thank you for your concern, but I –”

“Princess Leia, your fa – Oh! My apologies, I did not realize that you had company, Princess.” Rey twirls around to see C-3PO, the golden protocol waddles into the room, his gaze set on Rey. “Why, hello Miss – Princess Rey?”

“What?” Rey can’t help but laugh in confusion. Why in the galaxy would C-3PO ever call her ‘Princess’? Rey turns around when she hears that Leia is laughing too. The actual princess stands and makes her way over to Rey.

“I think your braids may have confused him, Rey.” She says with a smile, one gloved hand gently brushing over a few of the plaits in Rey’s hair. “What is it, Threepio?” She asks, her attention turning back to the droid, her hand dropping to Rey’s shoulder.

“Your father sent me, the ceremony will be starting soon and…”

“Tell my father I won’t be attending the ceremony.” Leia says tightly, her grip on Rey’s shoulder becoming slightly firmer. “And if he wants me to, he can come and fetch me himself.” Her tone is clipped and decisive, it is as close to snapping as Rey has ever seen Leia.

“I, oh, of course, Princess.” C-3PO says before turning and toddling of down the icy corridor of the base. “Oh, dear, where is Artoo when you need him?”

Leia does not release Rey’s shoulder as the droid disappears, she turns her face down to the ground, though she can’t hide her emotions from the Force nor from Rey. Rey wants to ask her what is bothering her, but Leia clearly does not want to talk about it, at least, not with her, which does hurt a little bit. She and Leia had grown so close over the past few months in Rey’s time, but Rey has her own secrets and she will not begrudge Leia hers.

“What were you saying,” Rey begins. Leia looks up at her, eyes cautious. “About my braids?”

“Oh!” Leis says, her face brightening, all worry seemingly melting away. She drags Rey over to the bed and sits down, patting the space beside her, inviting Rey to join. “They’re Alderaanian braids – I’ll assume you didn’t do them yourself?” She asks, laughing at a joke only she knows the punchline to.

“No, I didn’t.” Rey confesses slowly.

“On Alderaan, braids have meaning. Each means a different thing, of course that meaning varies on the age and stature of the wearer, sometimes one braid will mean two completely different things continent to continent, though there are a few braids whose meaning never changes, one of those being braids signifying royal stature. You’ve got a few of those woven in here.” Leia brushes her finger against one of Rey’s braids again.

“Oh,” Rey says, her cheeks heating a bit. “Is that – should I take them out?” Rey asks sheepishly.

She doesn’t really want to undo all of Ben’s hard work, but she also doesn’t want to walk around pretending like she is a princess either. Would that be a rude thing to do? Rey is still getting used to many social customs that everyone, aside from her, that is, seems to be born aware of. Utensils have been an ongoing struggle.

“No,” Leia assures with a warm laugh. “Outside of Alderaan, no one really pays attention to these things, no one but Threepio, apparently. Either way, as the only Princess of Alderaan, I assure you it is fine by me.” She smiles and Rey can almost see her Jedi Master shining through.

“Well, I’m glad, I do like them, actually.”

“Well, I should hope so!” Leia laughs again, and, again, Rey isn’t quite sure why. “There’s another braid whose meaning rarely changes, if ever. Whomever gave you these braids must love you very much.”

It is Rey’s turn to smile. Her heart feels like it is beating entirely too fast, but it’s in the most wonderful and terrifying way. She’s not sure what that means, if it means anything. Perhaps Ben just used that braid because he liked it, perhaps he hadn’t been thinking about meaning at all, but maybe he had.

* * *

Luke sits near the back of the hangar-turned-ceremony-hall. The person standing on the make-shift stage, a kind woman with a pleasant voice, Mon Mothma, apparently, somberly reads a list of names, the names of those lost in the Battle of Yavin and the subsequent evacuation of the moon.

Luke toys with the gold medal hung around his neck before tucking it beneath his jacket. It had felt strange to receive it, to be touted as a ‘hero’. He knows that his actions, along with the actions of everyone who fought in the battle, saved countless lives, but he can’t help but wonder how many people had been aboard the Death Star. Would the Empire have a ceremony and read their names aloud?

He doesn’t feel bad, per say, about his actions, but he’s not sure that he feels good either. Maybe war isn’t supposed to feel good though, and that’s what this is now, it’s a war. The Rebel Alliance had won the first battle, but it is far from over.

“Biggs Darklighter,” Mothma reads and Luke cringes.

Biggs is gone. Really well and truly gone, not just off at the academy, he’s dead, just like Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru and Ben Kenobi. Luke had never been especially close with Old Ben, Uncle Owen had never liked the man much, called him a ‘crazy old wizard’, wouldn’t let him near the farm, but knowing that he had been looking out for Luke since he was born had warmed him to the old man. They had all been fine a week and a half ago, it is strange how quickly everything in your life can change.

Luke tries to listen intently to every name, but soon the list just becomes a dull roar in his ears. His head is still buzzing from everything that has happened since his arrival on the ice planet, including his conversation with Rey last night. Had it been a mistake to tell her about his father? He doesn’t think so, it’s not like he plans to go around broadcasting the fact that his father is ‘Darth Vader’, but Rey seems trustworthy, and it had felt really nice to talk to someone about it. It feels like a weight has lifted from his shoulders a bit.

Someone sits down next to him and he knows it’s Leia even before he looks over at her, like he could sense her nearness in the same way he’d felt his father’s presence above the Death Star back during the battle. He hasn’t seen her since _that_ meeting with her father yesterday. He wonders where she’s been all this time. Does she know where they’re going or who their escort is?

“Hi,” He says softly, not wanting to disturb the quiet solemnity of the current ceremony.

“Hello,” She responds, though he notes that she does not look over at him, her gaze trained on the Rebel Alliance leader ahead of them. “I’m sorry I missed your medal ceremony.” She does look at him now, one corner of her mouth curling up into an apologetic smile.

“That’s alright.” He says honestly.

In truth, he hadn’t noticed her absence with how overwhelmed he’d been. That huge crowd staring at him, clapping for him… it made him feel - guilty, almost. They don’t know what happened up there, only that he’d made a miracle shot and he let them think he’d done it alone. That’s lying, isn’t it?

“Did you know any of them well?” He asks, inclining his head towards the speaker.

“I tried to know everyone.” She says with a shrug. “But, no, I knew none of them well, though I recognize many names. What about you?”

“My friend - Biggs.” Luke tells her, willing his voice to stay steady. “We grew up together on Tatooine. Flying for the Alliance, it’s all he ever…” But Luke’s throat grows tight and he can’t speak anymore. Leia puts one hand on his shoulder.

“He was a hero, Luke.” She smiles and he can feel how much she means it. “You all are.” That makes his stomach drop. She removes her hand from his shoulder and looks down into her lap. “I wanted to… apologize for my… reaction yesterday. It had nothing to do with you.” She assures him, her eyes meeting his again. “You seem like a good person, Luke. I’m… glad that you’re my brother.” She tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s weird.” Luke confesses with a soft laugh.

“It is.” She agrees.

The two of them sit in silence as they listen to the rest of the ceremony. In fact, they just sit next to each other for a little while after the ceremony has concluded, after people have already begun to clear out. It feels nice, the buzzing pressure in his head has lessened, if not ceased completely. Leia has the same secret as him and, knowing that, it’s a relief he wouldn’t have guessed. Maybe he can talk to her about his confusion around their father? If anyone would understand, surely, it’s Leia. He turns, his mouth already open when she stands.

“Are you hungry?” She asks, looking down at him.

Luke nods. While he had not particularly _enjoyed_ his meal yesterday, not that he’d been able to taste it much with how distracted he’d been, it had been nice to have an actual hot meal after so many days of nothing but ration bars aboard the _Falcon_ and then again in his X-Wing. Luke stands and he hopes that they will have fruit available today.

He and Leia are making their way towards the back of the hangar, heading for a hallway leading further into the base when they stop. Someone is calling their names.

“Luke? Leia?” Luke does not recognize the voice.

He turns around swiftly and nearly loses his balance, luckily, Leia is there to grab his arm, stopping his fall. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the icy floors of the base. A Togruta woman approaches them intently, a white hood pulled up over her head which she lowers as she draws nearer.

“Luke? Leia?” She repeats, looking at each of them in turn, her blue eyes shining. She smiles at them, almost in disbelief, it would seem.

“I’m Luke,” Leia says nothing, but does quirk one eyebrow upward. Apparently, she does not know the woman either.

“Rex!” The Togruta calls out behind her. “Rex, I found them!”

An older man approaches, his tan, wrinkled skin crinkling happily around his eyes, the bottom half of his face sports a thick, white beard. He smiles just like the woman beside him.

“Well, I’ll be, Commander.” He says with a light laugh. He reaches out and grasps Luke’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically before moving on to Leia who is at least prepared for the greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet the two of you, a real pleasure.”

“I’m sorry,” Leia begins. “Who are the two of you?”

“Oh, of course!” The Togruta woman’s hand flies up to her forehead as she smiles even wider, tears welling in her eyes. Luke’s stomach squirms uncomfortably. “You must be so confused!” She shakes her head, a couple tears coming lose and snaking down her face, she wipes them up quickly with the sleeve of her robe. “My name is Ahsoka,” She places one hand on her own chest before gesturing to the older man beside her. “And this is Rex.”

“Ahsoka, Rex,” Leia inclines her head to each of them in turn. Luke can feel his sister’s confusion in the Force, but none of it seeps into her tone. “It’s nice to meet the both of you. I’d introduce myself, but you seem to know me already - both of us.” She gestures to Luke who waves at them awkwardly.

“Yes, your father – Bail – contacted us a couple of days ago and when he… We just had to meet you.” She says beaming, but Luke can feel something sad behind the bright smile and happy tears. “He’s asked me to escort the two of you to, well, I probably shouldn’t say, not here.” She looks around the room which is still emptying from the ceremony.

“So, you’re the escort my father mentioned.” Leia says, almost coldly. If the woman, Ahsoka, notices Leia’s change in demeanor, she does not show it. She simply gives the princess a small nod.

“So, you knew our parents?” Luke asks, remembering what Bail had said yesterday. He feels Leia tense beside him.

“Our _biological_ parents.” She clarifies.

Her words sting Luke, though he’s fairly sure she hadn’t meant for them to. Leia had grown up with a mom and dad, Luke hadn’t. Yes, he’d had his aunt and uncle, but it wasn’t the same, not really, or, that’s how it had felt to him. He’d never taken the name ‘Lars’, it had never been offered, and Uncle Owen made it a point to tell people that Luke was his _nephew_. They’d been kind to him, and he misses them, but he had not been their son.

“Yes,” Ahsoka says, again ignoring Leia’s icy tone. “We knew both of your parents. Padmé was a good friend and we both worked with your father.” Ahsoka’s smile falters at that, but only for a moment.

“You worked with our father?” Luke asks, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. He’s eager to soak up any information about his parents that these people are willing to give.

“We did.” Ahsoka turns her full attention to Luke now, her eyes scanning his face. “I was his padawan learner - his apprentice,” She amends when it’s clear that neither Luke nor Leia have heard the term before. “At the Jedi temple… before.”

“You’re a Jedi?” His voice rising further. His hand brushes against the lightsaber hilt strapped to his side, the one Ben had returned to him back on Yavin IV. It’s still an unfamiliar weight, but one he is eager to get used to. “You have to meet Rey, she’s a Jedi too, she’ll be…”

“I’m not a Jedi.” She shakes her head, her blue and white lekku swaying in front of her. Luke hadn’t noticed her face fall in his excitement. He can’t tell if she’s sad or angry or maybe both. Luke doesn’t know why the mood has changed but he feels chastened, even if he hasn’t been scolded.

“I served under General Skywalker in the 501st during the Clone Wars.” Rex says after clearing his throat, shooting a glance at his companion, seeming eager to change the subject.

“Our father fought in the Clone Wars?” Luke wonders if he should feel silly for asking so many questions. He doesn’t, even if he should. He wants to know everything, absolutely _everything_ he can about his parents.

“Sure did.” Rex says, his mouth turning upwards. “General Skywalker was a hero.”

“Our father is a monster.” Leia says darkly.

Luke freezes, his gaze shifting from Leia to the two in front of them. Do they know? Do they know who their old friend has become?

“Your father,” Ahsoka begins slowly, “Was Anakin Skywalker. That… that _thing_ – that is not your father. I don’t know what that is, but he’s not Anakin.”

 _What does that mean_? Luke wants to ask but doesn’t.

“Anakin was a good man, whatever’s become of him now, he was a good man.” Ahsoka says, grabbing one of Luke and Leia’s shoulders with each hand. “He would have loved you both so much, him and Padmé, I’m sorry you never got to meet them.”

Luke’s stomach squirms and he is suddenly not very hungry at all. He _has_ met his father - the father who asked him if he was injured or hungry or needed a change of clothes, the father that saved his life, the father that tortured Ben and killed Biggs, the father that confuses him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its official, we in Ben territory now, bois! 😇🙌 Seriously though, I have always felt that there are two very important moments in any bendemption story - the moment Rey starts to refer to Ben as 'Ben' (if she doesn't start out doing that) and the moment Ben starts referring to himself within the narrative as 'Ben'. I've gone back and forth for a while on when this should be in this story, originally I had planned it earlier (before how long I realized this was going to be) and then I was planning on it happening far later. I think that this felt natural though, I just hope I was able to do it justice!
> 
> I wanted to thank taylor for giving me the idea to have C-3PO refer to Rey as "Princess Rey". I read your comment as I was writing this Leia & Rey scene and it was just too funny/ cute to pass up, so thanks for that! 💖
> 
> Also, Ahsoka 👑 and Rex 👑 are here! Welcome to the Clone Wars y'all. Now, from what I've read, I'm pretty sure our girl is just like chillaxing, becoming like a wise Jedi-lady in the World Between Worlds during the events of the OT, but I really wanted for her and Rex to meet the Skywalker babies, and in the end, isn't that what fanfiction is for? 💖
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the comments, kudos and bookmarks, as always - I appreciate it all so much and I LOVE hearing from you all! This was a fun chapter to write and I hope that you all enjoyed! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	17. Are You Okay, Ani?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anakin?”
> 
> A voice, a long-dead voice, rips Vader from his ruminations. He looks around the empty space. No one is there, he is completely alone.
> 
> “Anakin?”
> 
> \---
> 
> Ben meets with an old friend of grandpa's, Vader has a nightmare dressed like a daydream, and Rey & Ahsoka discuss a very familiar lightsaber.

By the time Ben arrives at the temple, the sun is peaking over the canopy of trees, casting the world in vibrant reds and oranges and yellows. It looks like the world is on fire, or, it might, if Ben didn’t already know what that looks like.

The Rebel Alliance is gone, Ben had known they would be, Stormtroopers prowl the grounds outside of the temple and, most likely, inside as well, gathering what intel they can from what has been left behind. He sees a few TIEs scattered around, but those will do him no good. He needs something with a hyperdrive, preferably something fast, but he’s in no position to be picky.

He sees one of the white, _Lambda_ -class shuttles – it’s exactly what he needs. He’s never flown a shuttle of this type before, but it is essentially the precursor to his _Upsilon_ -class command shuttle, so the basic idea should be fundamentally the same, or easy enough to figure out anyway. It should also be equipped with a hyperdrive, at least a class 2. Perfect.

Ben skirts the edge of the tree line surrounding the temple. Subtlety has never been one of his fortes, but he moves slowly, using the long shadows cast by the rising sun as an advantage. Something that places him at a distinct _disadvantage_ is the obscenely orange jumpsuit he is wearing, but there’s nothing to be done about that now. He calls on the Force to suggest the troopers roaming the ground look the other way.

Another disadvantage is his distinct lack of time. He has no idea how much longer Vader will be out. It is entirely possible that Ben’s grandfather is already awake, tearing through the bush, ready to rip him limb from limb. He’d felt Vader’s anger when he and Rey pressed into the Sith Lord’s mind – something he still can’t believe had worked. Ben is no fool, Vader will not offer him the same deal again, to join him, at least not so peacefully.

When the coast is just about clear Ben makes his move towards the shuttle. He hunches, keeping himself low to the ground, ducking behind cover when he can, mind tricking troopers when he cannot. He needs no entry code or chip to open the ship’s gangplank, with a subtle nudge of the Force it lowers and he slips inside.

“Who are you? What are you –” That is all the sole officer left on the shuttle gets out before Ben tosses him off of the ship, unconscious, and begins rushing through pre-flight checks. It’s not long before someone, somewhere on the base notices that something is off, like the ship currently preparing for take-off.

Ben pulls the ship up into the sky without trouble, without resistance or request for clearance codes, something he would find lucky were it not so suspicious. He’s being _allowed_ to leave and he’s not sure why. It’s not on the Empire’s mercy, he knows that, much like the First Order, it hasn’t any – there must be a reason. Perhaps they are hoping he will lead them to the new Rebel Alliance base, but that seems much too convenient. Uneasily, he begins entering the coordinates for Arda-2.

Arda-2 is the only other planet in the Gordian Reach. Sometimes the other padawans would fly off there when they had time off from lessons. The industrial planet is not an especially nice one, but it should be neutral, or, as neutral as a planet can be at this point in history.

He’s sure he can acquire another ship there – it’s not as though he can show up on Hoth with an Imperial shuttle, one that is surely equipped with a tracking device. He has no credits, so any ship he ‘acquires’ will have to be stolen, but after everything he’s done, he’s certainly not above stealing a ship.

His stomach drops when he sees what is waiting for him in the open space above the moon.

In the six months since he declared himself Supreme Leader of the First Order, Ben has done surprisingly little work. He’s vacillated between obsessing over ways to get Rey to join him and trying in vain to forget her completely. He’s contemplated reassembling the Knights, even going so far as to have some nameless underling retrieve the pieces of his shattered mask from the wreckage of the _Supremacy_ as the Knights would never accept his leadership without it.

He's brooded, sulked, raged and has ignored his generals during countless meetings, but as for real work he’s really only done one thing – oversee the design and construction of a new flagship. He’d wanted something impressive, something that inspired both awe and fear, something to rival the likes of both the _Supremacy_ and the ship he sees before him now – the _Eclipse_ , the flagship of the Galactic Empire and the command ship of Emperor Palpatine.

Even seeing the ship hanging there in the blackness of space beside Vader’s ship, the _Devastator_ , Ben cannot believe it’s true. He wouldn’t be here, would he? Would the Emperor leave his throne to come and check on the devastation wrought on his weapon, one over two decades in the making, destroyed before it could be fully deployed?

Ben almost wonders what he would have done had something of this magnitude happened to the First Order under his command, but he’s self-aware enough to recognize that he is far from the picture of effective leadership. Snoke had not redirected the _Supremacy_ to look upon the wreckage of Starkiller Base, to gaze at the star left behind, no, he’d headed straight for the Resistance’s base on D’Qar. Why would the Emperor be here now?

Does Sidious know about Luke and Leia? Does he know about Ben? What might Vader have told him? Everything? With a sense of heavy dread, Ben realizes that this is a distinct possibility. He’s not thought much of the Emperor since their arrival in the past, aside from what he knows will, or, what he knows should happen between Vader, Luke, and Sidious. Frankly, he thought that he and Rey would be gone long before they had to worry about his grandfather’s Sith Master.

His fear grows immeasurably as neither ship attempts to make contact with his errant transport shuttle, no TIE fighters descend. Being attacked, he’d been prepared for, but this… he knows that he is not simply being ignored. His fears are confirmed as he feels tendrils of dark energy, cold and powerful, wrap around his being. Their sender prods at his shields, testing, curious. Ben’s hands shake violently as he tries to ignore the Sith Lord’s power surrounding him, as he punches in haphazard calculations for a jump to hyperspace well outside of a proper lane, he hasn’t the time to make it to one.

 _Who are you?_ A voice which crackles like lightning rings through his mind.

Ben ignores the voice as the oppressive power surrounding him becomes suffocating. He wants to just say ‘the hell with it’ and make the jump now, but that would be foolish and, likely, deadly. He needs to be careful – something that, again, he has never been especially gifted at.

Ben focuses all of his energy on strengthening his shields as Sidious, the Sith’s curiosity unsated by Ben’s lack of answer, begins bashing at his defenses in earnest. Ben is nearly overwhelmed by the power of the assault, the distance between himself and the Sith Lord is proving to be an advantage he’s sure he’d be a goner without.

He nearly collapses to the floor as the ship jumps to hyperspace as though the only thing holding him up had been the Emperor’s dark energy. He stumbles over to the pilot’s seat and falls back into it, absolutely exhausted both physically and mentally.

Ben is careful to not let himself drift off to sleep, having grown up on the _Falcon_ , he has learned to never trust a nav-computer too much and as he is not traveling on a traditional hyperspace lane he has to keep an eye out for gravitational shadows.

If he remembers his history correctly, Arda-2 should be fairly neutral, but he really will need a change of clothes as soon as possible. He adds that to his mental list of ‘must dos’. New clothes, new ship, find some way to contact Rey and assure her that he is on his way. He only hopes that she hasn’t already stolen the _Falcon_ in some heroic attempt to rescue him.

In addition to staying awake, Ben is careful not to let himself think too much, at least not on anything beyond his most immediate needs and concerns.

He can feel something, a storm brewing just on the horizon, a violent maelstrom of emotions and revelations he is sure he is not ready to deal with, not now, not alone. He ignores it as best he can for now, but he never forgets it’s there, lingering like a threat, licking at the corners of his mind.

For now, he feels nothing, a pleasant sort of emotional numbness that he is well aware is most likely the calm before the storm, but he needs to focus on what needs to be done. He needs to get back to Rey.

* * *

Vader regains consciousness in a void, one free of light, sound, and darkness. The walls, ceiling, and floor, if those things are, indeed, a part of this place, are featureless and blend seamlessly into each other. He is not in his suit, the cybernetics of his artificial arms and legs are left exposed, nor does he require his mask to breath, or, more accurately, he does not need to breathe here at all.

He wonders, for a moment, if he is dead, if his grandson has killed him. Surely, in death, he would be free from pain - unless Chaos is, in fact, a real place, but if that were the case, he would expect _more_ pain. He can still feel the tight, uncomfortable pull of his too-small artificial limbs, the screaming of the burns and wounds that have never been allowed to fully heal.

What had happened? What is that connection between Vader’s grandson and that girl? It is unlike anything he has ever seen before, something that seems wholly unique to them. Their control of the Force had flowed between them as though it were shared, as though the Force treated them as one, a singular conduit instead of two separate beings. His grandson had seemingly pooled their power to overcome Vader - and it had worked.

His grandson, the one that wants to let ‘old things die’, to kill Vader’s son, to ‘kill the past’. Is it possible that his grandson has traveled to the past to kill Luke? Is the girl his accomplice? He’d asked her to join him after all. Surely if that were the case, he would have had plenty of chances by this point? Perhaps he is waiting to ensure his own birth before he makes his move, but then why work with the Rebellion? Out of convenience? Every piece of information he has pulled from the two of them leaves him with only more questions. There is one thing Vader is sure of; the man cannot be trusted.

The most troubling revelation, the one Vader cannot comprehend is that, in his grandson’s future, he returns to the Light. Or, so the girl believes - and the way his son had spoken about him… what had happened in his grandson’s time? How can Vader prevent it? As much as he wants to destroy the two of them – it is clear at this point that he and his grandson cannot work together – he needs answers, answers only these time travelers can give him. They will need to be separated, however. Destroy one, keep the other.

“Anakin?”

A voice, a long-dead voice, rips Vader from his ruminations. He looks around the empty space. No one is there, he is completely alone.

“Anakin?”

The formless grey void begins to dissolve, to melt in front of Vader’s eyes, transforming into a hauntingly familiar apartment in Coruscant, one he has not set foot in for nearly twenty years. Moonlight pours in through the large windows of the main living space. She is there, in front of him, the silvery light dancing off of her loose, brown curls. She is wearing a flowing blue nightgown which falls in curtains over the swell of her stomach. She peers up at him though a thick row of lashes; looking like all of the reasons he hasn’t slept in two decades.

“Anakin, are you coming back to bed?” She asks, her voice soft.

He opens his mouth to speak, to say her name, but the word becomes a physical thing, lodges in his throat, chokes him. He opens his mouth and all that escapes him is air and smoke. He looks down at himself, but he is not Ankain, he is Vader, still stripped of his suit, all exposed machinery and scars. It does not matter to her, she’s only a dream anyway.

“Did you have another bad dream?” She smiles lovingly, though her warm, brown eyes betray her concern. Vader knows he should look away, participating in this dream will not benefit him, but he cannot tear his gaze from her face.

“No, I do not dream anymore.” He speaks more softly than he has in years, his voice lower than he remembers, hoarser.

He reaches out to touch her arm, to see if he can, but the second his hand makes contact with her skin white, hot pain lances through his system. He rips it away in agony, it burns and throbs as though it is made of flesh and bone rather than metal, as though it is real. He looks at his hand, the cybernetics are fine, completely undamaged, but there is a burn left on Padmé’s arm where he had touched her, the skin red and black and charred.

He can smell the burning flesh, it is a familiar scent to him at this point, though he has not truly smelled anything in years, nothing but the sterile, faintly medicinal air of his hyperbaric chamber.

“Anakin,” She blinks slowly, her eyes run up and down his form, as though she is taking in his physical appearance for the first time. His skin is pale from lack of sunlight, it is marked and marred with scars. “What happened to you?”

“Obi Wan did this to me.” He says, his hand still outstretched.

“No,” She shakes her head solemnly. Her tone speaks not of disbelief or horror, but of disagreement. “How long is it going to take for us to be honest with each other?”

Vader’s arm falls back to his side, the hand balling into a tight fist. She would defend Kenobi here, in this death, in this dream, in this _nightmare_? Even the ghost of Padmé who lives only in his mind will defend that traitor?

The burn on her arm begins to spread as his anger grows. In an intense bout of panic, he reaches out to her again, but every point of contact fills him with pure, undiluted agony and only leaves her with more spreading burns. She shows no sign of pain despite the blistering, blackened skin slowly spreading over her body, the soft, silk of her nightgown smoldering from the ambient heat.

“Anakin, you’re breaking my heart.”

Hearing those words again might be enough to break Vader’s heart, had he one left to break. The burning spreads faster now and soon Padmé is nothing more than a pillar of ashes in the shape of the woman he loved, his wife and his reason for living. She blows away on the breeze from an open widow and he is alone again, or, he thinks he is.

“Ani?”

Another voice, its owner also long dead, calls from behind him. Vader whirls around and the scene dissolves again. He is no longer in Padmé’s apartment washed in the cool colors of night, now he finds himself in the familiar, cramped, sandy-toned home of his youth. His _mother_ stands before him. The tear ducts which burned up so long ago begin to itch in the corners of his eyes.

She does not look as she normally had in his dreams, back when he dreamed. She is not broken and bloodied, dying in his arms, she is the mother from his childhood, whole and well, just how he remembers her, only far sadder.

“Ani, my sweet boy.” His mother says. Vader does not move, does not speak. “What have you done?”

“You would not understand.” He confesses. How could she? His mother knew nothing of the Force, she could not possibly understand why he has done what he has, why it was _necessary._

Her hands come up to cup both of his cheeks. The touch burns him, just as Padmé’s had, but he does not pull away. He allows the skin beneath her palms to scream in agony because, despite the pain, the touch feels real.

Burns spread up her arms from where she touches him, covering her with charred and scorched flesh. He’ll destroy her as he destroyed the vision of Padmé, but he cannot pull away from her. His own selfish nature will be her destruction.

“You were a good boy; you became a good man.” She says slowly, sadly, her eyes searching, pleading for answers, understanding that he cannot give her. The boy she knew became the man who had been too weak to save her. Both of them are gone now. Only Vader remains. “What has become of you, my Ani? Who are you?”

“What I needed to become.” He says. The words roll around in the space, spill from his mouth thick and vile. He is what he was always meant to be – he _is._ Everything he’s done, it has been necessary, unavoidable, integral for peace and prosperity that could never thrive under the rule of the Republic, it has been…

He closes his eyes as his mother turns to ash and dust and is gone.

* * *

Porro Thrif has not seen a soul all day. He’s not especially surprised, all of Arda-2’s been deader than the Jedi Order ever since word of that giant space station showing up in the Yavin system started spreading around, and things only got worse when people started gossiping about a battle between the Empire and some kind of rebellion – Porro isn’t sure how much of these tall tales he believes, he’s never given much weight to rumors. He’s about to call it quits and head out for an early lunch when, finally, someone wanders onto the lot of Thrif’s New and Used Shipyard.

“Hello, sir!” Porro begins as he approaches the customer, a human male who is taller than Porro by several heads. He reaches out a hand in greeting, but when the man does not offer his own, Porro smoothly grabs the lapel of his jacket. _Rude_ , he thinks to himself, but it doesn’t really matter. He wants the man’s money, not his company. “What can I do ya for?”

“I need a ship.” The man says tersely. He does not look Porro in the eyes.

Porro looks the guy over. He’s dressed like anyone else, a leather jacket over a dark tunic and trousers, nothing fancy, doesn’t look like royalty or nothin’, though he sure carries himself like he is. The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he looks around the lot – the guy acts like he owns the kriffing galaxy. Porro knows the type. He’s probably a wealthy merchant’s son from some cushy core planet who fancies himself a spacer – an easy mark if Porro’s ever seen one.

“Well,” Porro starts with a hearty laugh, one that he finds puts most people at ease. He gestures at the lot full of ships around them. “You’re in the right place, friend.”

“I suppose,” The man says, narrowing his dark eyes, surveying the surrounding ships with a grimace.

“So, what can I send you home in today, sir?” Porro asks, widening his smile to make up for the frown on the man’s face. Normally, these types are out for something ‘flashy’ rather than functional, which can be harder to come by on Arda-2. Luckily, Porro always keeps a few yachts in stock for just such occasions.

“Something fast – and discrete.” The man adds after a moment’s consideration.

“Ah, I get ya,” Porro says, leaning in and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Never fear, my friend. Here at Thrif’s Shipyard, discretion is our _specialty._ ” He nudges the guy in the side which earns him a dark glower.

“And what kind of budget are we working with today, sir?”

“I am unconcerned with the price, just take me to your fastest ship.”

That must be up-tight, rich boy, jerk for ‘Just take my credits, please.’ Porro has to keep himself from jumping up to hug the dumb lug, but physical touch is clearly a big no-no. That is _exactly_ what Porro likes to hear. He quickly, though not too quickly, he doesn’t want to scare the big spender off, leads the man to the _Shadow_ , a used Baudo-class star yacht, a favorite of rich youngsters like the man here. As each ship of this type was custom made for its owner, the price is high, which kept most buyers away.

Porro gestures enthusiastically at the matte black waste of credits as they approach, he smiles to himself, thinking that the exterior as well as the name will be a perfect fit for ‘Mr. Tall, Dark, and Menacing.’

“Isn’t she a beauty?” He turns back to the man who still seems rather unimpressed, but perhaps that is just his baseline expression. “Just wait until you see her interior, buddy, I’ll tell ya, she’s…”

“Is it fast?”

“I – oh, well, of course she’s fast!” Porro chuckles nervously. It’s not the fastest ship on the lot, no faster than any of the other light cruisers or pleasure yachts, but it is the most expensive. “She’s got a class-2 hyperdrive, and wait until I tell ya about -”

“And this is the fastest ship you have?” The man asks raising an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re not going to find anything faster unless you’re looking to buy an Imperial shuttle – and, uh,” Porro leans in again, his eyes flicking back and forth. “If that’s what you’re looking for, I know a guy, for the right price.”

“No, I’ll take it.” The man says brusquely.

“You will? – Oh, of course you will!” Porro corrects himself quickly. “When I saw you, I thought to myself, ‘Now, Porro, that’s a man of taste!’ I knew that I had to show you the  _ very best _ , you are a very lucky man.”

Porro smiles widely as he pulls out his data pad and begins to calculate the price. He’s already imagining what he can do with the pile of credits he’s about to pull in. Maybe he and the missus can finally get away, take that trip they’re always talking about – or, better yet, he’ll leave Hela at home and take  _ Amina _ with him. They could go somewhere expensive, exotic… maybe Canto Bight? Now  _ that _ sounds like a good time.

“Now, normally, this  _ beauty _ ’s priced at three hundred fifty thousand credits, but for a  _ friend _ …”

“The credits have already been transferred to your account.” The man says, his voice calm and firm.

What? That’s not… Oh!  _ Oh _ ! Of course they’ve already been transferred to his account, that’s why Porro has his datapad out! He’s such a fool – what is this, his first day? He could kick himself in embarrassment.

“The credits have already been transferred to my account.” He agrees tonelessly. His head feels a little fuzzy, but he ignores the sensation, he has a sale to finish. He hands the man – how is it that after all of the paperwork needed for a sale like this Porro still hasn’t learned his name? Never mind that, he hands the man the entry chip. “Alright, sir, she’s all yours, and may I say what a –”

The man takes the entry chip and does not thank Porro which, again,  _ rude _ . Instead, he leans down and looks at Porro very intently.

“You will not remember my face or that this interaction ever happened.”

Porro’s whole mind clouds over, he blinks very rapidly and when he can finally both think and see clearly again, he notices a ship taking off – had that ship come from his lot? Impossible. Arda-2’s been more than dead ever since the “battle” over in the Yavin system and Porro hasn’t seen a soul all day.

* * *

Ahsoka finds the girl, Rey, where Luke had suspected she might be – not that Ahsoka had needed directions, the girl’s Force signature burns brightly and she’d mostly followed that here, _here_ being the girl’s quarters. The door is open, the girl sitting on her bed talking with an astromech droid about something, and not just any astromech.

“Artoo?” Ahsoka whispers under her breath far to quietly for anyone else to hear. Surely that can’t be R2D2, right? What were the odds of that? Still, the longer she looks the more certain she becomes that it is indeed her former master’s old droid.

“Thank you for listening, Artoo. It’s so nice to have someone to talk with about this, but, of course, it will have to stay between us.” The girl says softly. Ahsoka doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but her curiosity is piqued.

Artoo warbles something about being very good at keeping secrets, though he complains that he is growing tired of it. Rey nods her head in understanding. She treats the droid with a certain level of respect that Ahsoka has found to be quite rare. Many people treat droids as objects, but not this girl, Anakin never had either, though Ahsoka tries not to think too long on that.

Ahsoka clears her throat to gain the pair’s attention. The girl’s head twists on its axis, her eyes roving the intruder. R2D2 beeps excitedly in instant recognition, rolling over and parking himself in front of his old friend, he begins shooting off questions quicker than Ahsoka can pick up.

“Slow down, Artoo!” She says with a laugh, it sounds rusty. She hasn’t had much reason to laugh as of late, but it feels good. “It’s good to see you too, buddy.” She kneels down and rubs and affectionate hand over his domed head. “Me? I’ve been… a lot of places, really.” She answers his question, hearing the sadness in her own voice.

R2 beeps morosely in understanding. He’s one of the few left who really understands, him and Rex. Obi Wan is gone, she still can’t believe that even if she knows it’s true. Sometimes, at night, she dreams that it’s the old days again, the easy days, though she never would have called them that then, back when Anakin was Anakin and things were simpler.

“You must be Rey,” Ahsoka says as she stands, taking the girl in. She folds her arms over her chest. “Luke tells me you’re a Jedi.”

She’s young, probably about Luke and Leia’s age, far too young to have been at the Jedi temple at the time of the massacre – luckily for her. Where, then, would she have received her training? Ahsoka knows that some of the Jedi survived, she had, after all, Kanan had and he’d begun to train Ezra, maybe there are more out there.

“I – um, I guess?” She says sounding less than confident. “I’m trying to be, anyway. I’m training, but my master never finished her own training.”

That is curious. Perhaps one of the older padawans then, or even one of the younger? Would Ahsoka know them? She’s about to ask when she realizes that she has not properly introduced herself.

“My name is Ahsoka Tan...” She crosses the room and reaches out a hand in greeting but stops short when she sees what is strapped to the girl’s belt. Her eyes shoot up to Rey’s, her finger pointing at the lightsaber hilt accusatorily. “ _Where_ did you get that?” She grits out through clenched teeth.

“I – oh!” The girl’s eyes fly open wide as she realizes what Ahsoka is asking. She scurries backwards on her unmade bed, trying to place some distance between them. R2 is beeping something rapidly, trying to get Ahsoka to calm down, but she isn’t listening to him – that’s _Anakin’s_ blade. “I found it!” Rey says, unclipping it from her side. She holds the hilt like she’s not sure if she wants to hide it or brandish it.

“That doesn’t belong to you, it was…”

Wait. That can’t be Anakin’s blade, Ahsoka had seen it not an hour ago strapped to Luke’s side. She’d been proud to see him wearing it, knowing that Anakin, the man that he _had_ been, would have wanted Luke to have it. It couldn’t be his blade, but still, she’d recognize it anywhere, even with the… modification made to it. Her mouth goes slack as she tries to rationalize the situation. A replica? She’s never heard of such a thing but, surely, it is possible.

“Where did you get that?” She asks again, all of her previous fire gone, her voice sounding dazed. “Luke has it… How?” She adds, shaking her head slightly.

Rey blanches, her grip on the hilt tightening. Her eyes flit over to where R2 is rolling back and forth on the icy floor, not nervously, Ahsoka notes, but in agitation. He warbles for someone to listen to him.

“I can’t tell you.” Rey’s voice is barely more than a whisper. R2 assures the girl that Ahsoka can be trusted, but it seems to do little to assuage her wariness.

“Why not?” Ahsoka asks, trying to regain her calm.

The girl looks at R2 again and then back to Ahsoka, her uncertainty plain on her face.

“I could tell you, but I don’t think you’d believe me.”

Ahsoka thinks of Mortis, of watching Anakin tame the Brother and the Sister, of dying and being resurrected. She thinks of Anakin, her master, her friend, her brother, falling. She thinks of the masked creature he’s become, of their encounter on Malachor, of the strange world Ezra had pulled her into, saving her life. The World Between Worlds, it’s called. An odd place with portals leading to a variety of different locations, events. Some of them from long ago, some yet to happen. She’s been back there since in an attempt to understand it but chose to postpone her mission when Bail had contacted her.

“You have no idea what I’d believe.” Ahsoka responds flatly. Her life has been full of impossibilities, what is it to believe one more?

Rey narrows her eyes, her expression guarded as she looks Ahsoka up and down. She looks back at R2 for confirmation. The droid whirs and beeps again in affirmation of Ahsoka’s ability to be trusted with whatever information the girl has already divulged to the little astromech. She sighs, though the tension in her shoulders does not relax and she does not pull Anakin’s lightsaber hilt away from her chest as though she is afraid that Ahsoka might snatch it away from her.

“I really did find this,” She confesses, her grip on the hilt tightening further. “It called to me…” She pauses and squeezes her eyes shut tightly. She rushes out the next part, as though she is afraid she might stop herself if she speaks at a normal speed. “I don’t know how I’m here, or why, but I’m from the future.”

“You don’t know how?”

“No,” The girl shakes her head, though, Ahsoka notices that she does seem to relax somewhat, perhaps in relief of being believed. “One day I was… home, and the next I was in the desert on Tatooine – in the past.” She elaborates as though that were not already clear. “The same thing happened to Ben; I think.”

“Ben?” There’s another?

“He’s my…” Rey furrows her brow and bites her lip. “He’s from the future too.”

“And you just happened to end up in the company of Luke, then?”

“We found him on Tatooine, we’ve been… helping.”

“Helping?” Ahsoka asks slowly as she leans back against the small dresser across from the girl, her arms folding over her chest.

“Listen,” Rey sighs, her face falling in clear frustration. “I don’t know how much I _should_ tell you… I don’t even know if I should have told you all of this.”

Ahsoka nods in understanding. She agrees with the girl, knowing too much about the future, it can’t be a wise, it might even be dangerous. Still, she cannot help her own curiosity.

“How far in the future are you from?” Surely that is safe knowledge.

“Almost thirty-five years.”

The air escapes Ahsoka’s lungs in one slow puff. That is a long time. Countless questions race through Ahsoka’s mind, questions she knows that she shouldn’t ask, questions she is nearly desperate to know the answers to.

“I should take you to Master Yoda as well.” She says with finality. If there’s anyone alive who would know what to do with any of this, it’s the former Grand Master. “You and your friend.”

“I can’t leave!” She says standing up. “I have to stay with Luke and Leia and…”

“Luke and Leia are coming with us.” Ahsoka assures the panicking girl.

“Han has to come too.” The girl says firmly. “And Ben’s on his way, we have to wait for him.”

“Wait.” Ahsoka says, holding out a hand. “Who’s Han? – And Where’s your friend?”

“Han is…” The girl’s hands fly to her face as she groans in frustration. “I don’t know how much I can tell you!” Rey digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, her lightsaber left on the bed behind her. Ahsoka can see now that it’s recently been repaired rather poorly. It looks like it’s been split down the middle, the thing seems to be held together only by a strap of metal and leather. “But it’s _really important_ that we all stay together.”

“Okay, I trust you.” Ahsoka says, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes tightly. “I’ll go speak with Bail; I’ll insist that this… Han?”

“Solo,” Rey supplies quickly.

“Solo comes with us.” She’s not sure how she’ll explain that, but she’ll figure it out on the way to his office.

Ahsoka turns to leave, placing one hand once again on the domed head of R2D2, her old friend, one she hadn’t even realized she’d missed so dearly. She looks back at Rey, the girl so far out of time, so far from home. Ahsoka commiserates with the girl, she feels far from home as well, though her home is in the past rather than the future.

“Rey,”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to tell me, but I have to ask.” Ahsoka sighs. It is probably not wise to ask this question at all, but she is her master’s apprentice. “The war… does it end?” She doesn’t need to know who wins, she almost doesn’t want to know, but she has to know if there is a future without war, a future worth hoping for. The way the girl’s face falls fills Ahsoka with cold dread.

“For a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh Oh! Sidious has got Benji's scent, and we know how that old creep loves to scoop up fresh Skywalker bois like candy. Luckily Ben's outta there, I'm sure old Papa Palpatine will just forget about him. 👌
> 
> Vader's out here like "this is why I don't sleep, y'all." Poor guy, honestly, that was a rough one - his dead wife and his mom? When's our poor old Darth Dad gonna catch a break? Your guess is as good as mine, honestly.
> 
> I am proud to introduce you all to Porro Trif. Dang, I love this guy! I imagine him as like Harry Wormwood from Matilda. Such fun writing him, really, he's a joy. I also had fun imagining what a Jedi mind-trick is like from the POV of the receiver. 
> 
> Rey 👑 and Ahsoka 👑, the two Queens of my life and my heart, meet! Gosh, what a momentous occasion. Long ago when I was in the beginning stages of writing this fic, I knew that I had to bring Ahsoka in on this and I also knew that if there was anyone who would understand or, at the very least, believe Ben and Rey's crazy time travel story, it was the Queen of the World Between Worlds herself. 💖
> 
> A bit of housekeeping, I sincerely apologize for missing my regular mid-week upload this week. My work hours have increased as my job started it's final phase of re-opening after quarantine, and the increased hours have made it too much of a struggle to keep up with the bi-weekly posting schedule I had been on. Additionally, as we get closer to the end, I suspect we're about halfway through now (you'll see I've added at tentative chapter count), I want to be able to spend more time on each chapter rather than rush and have the quality suffer. I will be posting once a week every Sunday from here on out. 💖
> 
> Thanks so, so much to everyone for the kudos and bookmarks and the always kind and thoughtful comments. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you and love hearing from you! I am constantly blown away by the reception this fic has gotten, so thank you all so much! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> I've got a twitter now! If you have one, I'd love to follow you, and I will post any schedule changes there in the future! [@Aaveena1](https://twitter.com/Aaveena1)


	18. Rocket Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader kneels before Sidious’ throne, his arm resting on his damaged right leg, his gaze downcast. His master’s rage eclipses even his own. A long, quiet moment passes as the master takes in the state of his apprentice.
> 
> “Lord Vader,” Sidious begins, his voice deceptively calm. “I trust your mission to retrieve the rebel prisoners has been a success?” His master asks, knowing the answer, he wants Vader to reveal the depths of his failures.
> 
> “The prisoners have escaped with the rebels.” Vader confesses, his gaze still trained on the glossy floor below.
> 
> \---
> 
> Vader learns some less than surprising news from the boss man, Chewie is reunited with an old friend, and Ben finds that it's lonely out in space.

When Vader finally wakes the sun is high in the sky, though not much light is able to peek through the thick canopy above. He stands, his lightsaber hilt flying into his open palm; his grandson had left it – the _fool_. Vader reaches out to the Force with such power that a few of the trees around him topple, crashing to the ground in a violent clatter. Every life form shudders as he searches them, none of them are his grandson. He could be shielding himself again, but Vader knows with a certainty that can only come from the Force that the man is gone.

There is a temple nearby, the one from his grandson’s memories, the rebel base – the _former_ rebel base. The rebellion has fled, his children are gone, his grandson is surely on his way to them now, having absconded with an Imperial shuttle.

“Track that ship!” Vader commands the trooper relaying the information about the stolen ship. “I want to know its every movement.”

Vader storms off without waiting for a response, he knows that the trooper will comply. He throws himself into the nearest TIE and takes off.

The _Devastator_ is not the only ship that looms above the jungle moon of Yavin IV, Sidious’ command ship, the _Eclipse_ , the flagship of the Empire, hangs in the empty blackness nearby. The Emperor is here, whether to survey the damage of the Empire’s latest defeat or to check on the status of his wayward apprentice, Vader cannot say, but he does know that the Sith Lord is incredibly angry. Vader can taste his master’s rage, even from this distance, and he knows that much of it is for him.

Vader considers his damaged systems and wonders which would be more foolish, to further test his master’s patience by attending to the damage in the med-bay first, or to appear before Sidious in his weakened state. Vader decides that the systems are not in immediate need of repair and turns his recently procured TIE towards the _Eclipse_. He would rather allow his master see the minimal damage he sustained in the crash than allow time to further stoke the flames of Sidious’ ire.

“Lord Vader,” An older officer, one whose name and rank Vader does not know or care to learn, approaches the TIE as Vader exits. “His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Palpatine, wishes to see you…” But the man cannot get the rest of his command out past the Force constricting around his throat. Vader revels for a moment in the fear and pain flowing from the man, harnesses it, lets it sink into him bone deep as he converts it to power.

“I am well aware.” Vader grounds out, his vocoder spitting with static, belaying its damaged state. He throws the man across the hangar and does not look to see where he lands.

Vader stalks off through the hangar, down corridor after corridor, making his way towards the Emperor’s throne room. His cape, torn and sullied from the crash and his trek across the moon, billows behind him angrily. Hallways clear as he approaches, both his physical presence and his presence in the Force a threatening storm, not that anyone but his master can feel the latter.

Imperial Guards line the walls of the throne room, their red helmets silently watch his approach. Vader considers the throne room from the girl’s memory, the guards dead, the creature in the throne slaughtered. Snoke, his grandson had called his master. Who is this ‘Snoke’ and what is his role in the galaxy at large in Vader’s grandson’s time? What becomes of Sidious?

Vader kneels before Sidious’ throne, his arm resting on his damaged right leg, his gaze downcast. His master’s rage eclipses even his own. A long, quiet moment passes as the master takes in the state of his apprentice.

“Lord Vader,” Sidious begins, his voice deceptively calm. “I trust your mission to retrieve the rebel prisoners has been a success?” His master asks, knowing the answer, he wants Vader to reveal the depths of his failures.

“The prisoners have escaped with the rebels.” Vader confesses, his gaze still trained on the glossy floor below.

“A shame,” Sidious drawls, his anger spiking. “And why, might I ask, were these prisoners so important that you deemed it acceptable to leave your station on the Death Star without word of your departure?”

“They hold information vital to the rebellion.” Vader explains truthfully. If, indeed, the rebellion wins in his grandson’s future, learning _how_ could be vital to both sides of this conflict.

“Information such as the location of the Rebel Alliance base?” Sidious asks, his anger growing stronger by the second, the air in the throne room crackles with its power. “Information you seemed to possess, and yet did not divulge with your fellow command aboard the Death Star.”

“I could not be sure that…”

“The Death Star has been _destroyed_!” Sidious roars.

White, hot pain lances Vader’s system as his master’s lightning coils angrily around his form - not enough to kill, just enough to harm. Vader’s already damaged respirator struggles under the load of energy and pain.

“And the rebels have escaped.” He punctuates this statement with another shock of agonizing Force lightning. “Where were you during this time, Lord Vader?”

“My ship was shot down,” Vader says, careful to answer around the full truth. “I was forced to crash land on the moon.”

“Hmm,” Sidious hums, considering Vader’s answer. “The rogue Sith you were pursuing, what of him?”

“He is no Sith,” Vader spits at the reminder of his traitorous grandson. “An unaffiliated Dark Side agent, he is nothing…”

“And yet he has escaped you,” Vader’s master muses cruelly, his malformed face contorting into something like a smile. “Overpowered you? Injured you, perhaps?” Sidious lifts one of his gnarled hands, gesturing at Vader.

“No,” Vader refutes. “I sustained damage during the crash, nothing more.”

Vader can feel his own anger boiling beside the rage of his master. He resents the implication that his grandson, the pitiful, conflicted creature that he is, could ever be stronger than Vader. Had it not been for the girl, had they not surprised him by the strength of their bond, Vader would have defeated the man handily, he had last time after all. _Kylo Ren_ is weak in ways that Vader is not, he must be destroyed, he must…

 _Anakin_. Padmé’s voice fills his mind. Her eyes flash in his memory. Her dark eyes, the ones which always held such warmth and calm and kindness, the ones their daughter inherited, the ones her son has now. Padmé’s eyes live on in their grandson. He is her blood as much as he is Vader’s and with that realization, he knows that he cannot destroy the man, despite his betrayals.

“Have we anything to fear from this ‘Dark Side agent’, Lord Vader?”

“No,”

“I have learned some very interesting news.” The disfigured, old emperor says slowly, seemingly savoring the taste of each word.

Vader can sense his master’s displeasure, that has not waned, but there’s a spark of something more now, something like wicked delight. Vader looks up, Sidious’ eyes are shining maliciously.

“It would seem that the son of Anakin Skywalker lives.”

Vader does not speak, does not move. He schools his fear into calm impassion in the way he’s taught himself since becoming Sidious’ apprentice. What reaction does his master want? What reaction does he expect? Anger? That seems safest. Sidious prods at Vader’s shields curiously and Vader allows his anger at his son being taken to seep through.

“But you already knew that, did you not, Lord Vader?” Sidious croons evilly.

“I suspected.” Vader confesses as he knows that his master will tolerate his silence no longer.

“I do not appreciate you keeping things from me.”

“I did not want to come to you with this information until I was sure.”

“And you are sure now?” Sidious taps the fingers of one hand on the black, metal arm of his throne, something that, to most might seem a casual, thoughtless motion – but Vader knows that nothing Sidious ever does is either casual or thoughtless.

“I am.” There is no way around it, Vader must reveal this little bit of the truth if he is to keep the rest a secret.

“According to our information networks, he has joined the _rebellion_.” Vader’s master spits. “He could be a threat to us.”

“He is just a boy.” Vader refutes and instantly knows that it is the wrong thing to say. “And could be a powerful ally, if turned.”

Sidious narrows his yellow eyes, his gaze penetrating. His presence in the Force surrounds Vader, searching every nook and cranny of his apprentice’s mind for any hint of deception or deceit – he will find none, Vader has become too good at hiding those parts of himself, the parts that detest his master.

“Perhaps,” Sidious agrees pulling back. “But should you fail… He must be destroyed.”

“I shall not fail.” Vader promises – though the vow is meant not for his Sith master.

* * *

Chewbacca is tinkering with the one of the consoles on the _Falcon_. Many might assume from his size that he would not take to such fine work, but he enjoys working with the delicate wiring and sensitive components. He likes the precision such fragile work requires – he finds a sense of peace, a zen, something like the meditation the Jedi he’s known might have talked about once long ago.

Chewbacca’s peace is disturbed, as it so often is, by the cursing and grumbling from his friend echoing through the halls of the ship. Sighing, he stands, leaving his work behind to see what the problem is this time. Han’s working on replacing some frayed wiring in the upper-workings of the ship and, most likely, he’s shocked himself again.

He's surprised when he hears arguing. The second voice, while it is not one belonging to any of the other humans they’ve brought aboard recently, is one that is not completely unfamiliar to him either.

“You Han Solo?” The feminine voice asks.

“That depends on who’s askin’.” Han grumbles from around the corner.

When Chewbacca rounds the bend and sees just who it is his friend is speaking with, you could knock him over with a feather. In the two hundred years that he’s been alive, Chewbacca’s met a great many beings, has likely forgotten more friends than he remembers, but he never forgets the face of someone who’s saved his life.

The Jedi youngling from Wasskah, though she likely does not consider herself a youngling any longer, stares back at him. Her eyes narrow before quickly flying open in recognition. She pushes past Han to wrap Chewbacca in a hug which he returns gladly.

<< _Ahsoka_ ,>> He rumbles. << _It has been a long time. I am glad to see you_.>>

After the rise of the Empire and the massacre of the Jedi, he was sure that none of his friends from the Order had survived. He is very glad to see that he had been wrong.

“I’m glad to see you too.” She says pulling away. She wears a smile but Chewbacca notes sadness there, deep sorrow. “How have you been, how’s –”

“You two know each other?” Han interrupts, looking between the two of them questioningly.

<< _Yes, Ahsoka and I know each other_.>> Chewbacca confirms. << _We were captured by Trandoshan slavers, escaped together. I owe her my life._ >>

“No,” Ahsoka shakes her head. “That’s not true, if anything, I owe you my life. We never would have made it off of Wasskah without your communicator or your help.” She pats him on the arm kindly.

“What do you mean ‘captured by Trandoshan slavers’?” Han asks, shaking his head. “You never told me about that.”

<< _No_ ,>> Chewbacca laughs at that. His friend sometimes forgets just how much life Chewbacca had already lived before they met on Mimban. << _There are many things I have never told you about, my friend_.>>

Something like hurt flashes on the pilot’s face for a quick moment before he is able to school his expression back to one of rugged annoyance. Chewbacca’s laughter dies in his throat. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend’s feelings. What he had said is the simple truth. There _are_ may things about his life that Han does not know, that Chewbacca has not had the opportunity to tell him. It wasn’t as if he’d meant to keep the information from his friend, it had simply never come up.

“And here I thought you were looking for me.” Han huffs, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a smirk. He hides his pain well, Han Solo, but he can never hide it from Chewbacca – though the Wookiee knows better than to ever point it out.

“I was,” Ahsoka says, her smile falling slightly. “I just spoke with Bail Organa. We have a job for you.”

“A job.” Han scoffs. “What kind of job?”

“A transportation job.” She explains vaguely.

“Yeah, the last _transportation_ job I took kinda burned me.” Han huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

“It’s Luke and Leia – I gather they they’re friends of yours?”

“Yeah, they’re alright.” Han says dismissively, shrugging one shoulder. Chewbacca knows better, knows how much Han has come to care for the small group of humans that they have gathered since Tatooine. After all, he’d been there when Han had decided to go back for them. “What about ‘em?”

“They’re –” Ahsoka purses her lips, as if taking her time and choosing her words carefully. “In danger.” Chewbacca can see Han’s shoulders go rigid at that, though his face remains impassive. “Bail brought me here to escort them somewhere safe. We need a pilot – and a ship.” She adds as she looks around at the _Falcon_ , her nose scrunching slightly at the battered interior of the old freighter. “Bail will pay you well if that’s what you’re…”

“Danger? What kind of danger?” Han asks frowning. Chewbacca is also curious as to what kind of danger is worse than where they find themselves now, rebels on the run from the Empire.

Ahsoka sighs, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

“I can’t exactly tell you, but you’ll…”

“Well, then I can’t exactly _take_ you.” Han says shaking his head. “I’m through going into these things blind. Either you tell me or no deal.”

Ahsoka bites her lip, her brows drawn down in frustration. She closes her eyes and sighs.

“I can’t.” Her hands come up in front of her, palms out as she looks from Han to Chewbacca. “I can tell you that we’re going to the Dagobah system. It’ll be a good place to hide out – for everyone.”

<< _I think we should help them._ >> Chewbacca interjects before Han even opens his mouth. Han glowers at him darkly in response.

“Help them?” He laughs, though there is no mirth in the sound or on his face. “What have I _been_ doing?” He runs one greasy hand through his hair, a nervous habit. “All I’ve done is help and look at where it’s landed me – where it’s landed _us_.” He looks at Chewbacca pointedly, but the Wookiee does not flinch away. “We’re wanted men, we –”

<< _We’re smugglers, my friend. When are we not wanted men?_ >> Chewbacca asks with a laugh. << _It is difficult to remember a time when we did not have one bounty on our heads or another. Why should we worry now?_ >>

“Yeah, a few low-level bounties from various gangs and cartels, not the entire Empire!” Han says and he sounds like he might be scared of the prospect, he most likely should be, they both _should_ be, but Chewbacca doesn’t buy that Han is truly afraid, not of this, at least. Fear is not something he closely identifies with his friend, for better or for worse.

<< _We will be wanted by the Empire on Hoth as much as anywhere else._ >> Chewbacca offers. << _If Ahsoka says that we would be safe there, I trust her._ >> And he does.

He’s trusted her with his life before and she saw him home to his people, his family – they saw each other home. He still remembers her reunion with her Jedi master. He’d not overheard their conversation or learned the man’s name, but he’d seen the love there, the relief.

Han chews on that for a moment. Chewbacca knows that once Han has decided on something, once he’s really dug his heels in, it is difficult to convince the man to change his mind, stubborn creature that he is. Chewbacca can see his friend’s decision in his eyes before he speaks.

“Fine,” He sighs angrily. “If Chewie vouches for you, then, yeah, we’ll do it. Now, what’s Organa offering, credits wise.”

Chewbacca guffaws loudly as he claps his friend on the back.

* * *

Thus far, the trip from Yavin IV to Hoth has been uneventful. Unfortunately for Ben, this means he has had a lot of quiet time alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company – a recipe which has never ended in anything but disaster for him before.

He tries to distract himself; he really, _really_ tries. He’s taken inventory on the ship over a dozen times – unfortunately, as the ship was previously unowned there’s very little to take inventory of so he’s really just counting and recounting the meager rations he’d managed to procure back on Arda-2. Not to mention that the yacht is practically like new, there’s nothing to fix, no work, nothing to do.

He tries to sleep when he can, but it doesn’t come easily. The large bed in the captain’s quarters on the yacht is soft and plush but he just can’t get comfortable. He thrashes violently as the numerous nightmares assault him, worse than they have been in years. A new one finds him tonight. Thousands of nameless faces are lined up before him, their cold, soulless eyes watching, judging, knowing. _It was all for nothing_ ; they seem to say. _It was meaningless_.

His father stands front and center, hand outstretched, as if beckoning Ben to join them. His father, he’d killed his father. He’d thought it was for something – it was supposed to _help_ , but it didn’t. Snoke had lied, just as his father had said, just as Ben had known, even then.

_It was meaningless._

_It was meaningless._

_It was meaningless._

The phrase repeats like a mantra for what seems like days on end. He tries to call on the Dark Side, to pull it to himself, to help smother the guilt before it drowns him, but the darkness doesn’t heed him as it once had. Instead, the Light inside seems to burn twice as brightly, illuminating his past in new and terrible ways.

His head, like the ship around him, is too lonely, too quiet. There are no voices there now to either soothe his troubled mind or to punish him for his weakness. Snoke is gone, as is his grandfather. The only voice left is his own, the only voice that cannot, will not absolve him of his crimes. That voice taunts him now, reminds him that he was nothing more than a weapon, a tool, one willingly used – but he was more than a tool too, he made choices, so many choices, all of them the wrong ones.

_You have too much of your father’s heart, young Solo._

Too much or too little, Ben doesn’t know. His father had been a hero, a general for the Rebel Alliance. His mother, his uncle, his father – all of them heroes, saviors of the galaxy – and what is he? He’d inherited none of their golden blood, he’d realized this when the truth of his mother’s parentage had come out, only the corrupted, black ichor of Vader runs through his veins.

With every hour that passes it becomes clearer what a waste his life has been, what a waste he has allowed it to be. His youth wasted on Jedi training he never wanted, his young adulthood wasted fighting for a cause he never believed in, not truly. He’d tried, for years, to convince himself of the purpose of the First Order, that the galaxy could never find peace under the New Republic, and for a while, he had succeeded. For a short time, he’d been converted, zealous in his devotion to Snoke and the First Order and the Dark Side, but that had all come crashing down with Starkiller Base.

Kenobi had said that Vader’s path did not have to be his own and Ben had admitted that he didn’t want it to be, and every day since that admission stings a little less. Rey has told him, twice now, that it isn’t too late – can they be right? Is he weak for wanting them to be? He doesn’t know anything anymore.

He's over halfway through the trip to Hoth when he stops at a fueling station near Mechis. He’s careful not to show his face when he doesn’t have to. He’s fairly certain that the Empire doesn’t have a holo of his likeness circulating, and they certainly don’t have records of him, but he tends to stick out in a crowd at the best of times, so he takes extra caution when refueling.

He’s sitting in the pilot’s seat, staring at his hands when it happens – the familiar buzzing at the base of his skull, the electric hum in the air, the warmth pooling in his chest. He stands in an instant, his head whipping back and forth, trying to discern her location within the small ship’s interior.

When he spies her, she is frozen, stock still, staring at him, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. For a horrible moment he wonders if something terrible has happened until he feels her overwhelming relief. It floods his system and he feels it as though it were his own, and maybe part of it is. Afterall, it has been about five standard days since their encounter with Vader and he has missed her; missed her more than he thought was possible.

The tension and the turbulence in his soul ebbs, evaporates like steam the longer he soaks in the sight of her. The tempest of guilt and despair is still there, festering inside of him, but it seems more manageable now somehow.

She closes the distance between them and throws her arms around his neck. He thinks he might hear her whisper his name into the fabric of his shirt, but he can’t be sure. He’s smiling, actually, fully smiling. He buries his face in her hair to hide it, though there is no one around to see. He’s never liked his smile, it’s crooked and, like everything else on his face, feels too large and out of place.

She pulls away, her eyes scanning him.

“Where are you?” She asks, her hazel eyes still searching. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He says softly. _Safe_ , he almost adds but doesn’t. He’s not sure that word could apply to either of them at the moment. “I’m on a ship, an unregistered one. I’m on my way – should only be two standard days away, maybe three?”

His hand drifts up to her hair. The braids he’d woven in on their last meeting are still there, though they’ve started to come undone, tufts of hair stick out at odd angles, but the sight still fills him with warmth. She can’t possibly know what the braids mean, how much he means what they say. He yearns to tell her, but something stops him as he brushes a calloused thumb over one of the delicate plaits.

“You kept them.” He says, and he is dangerously close to smiling again.

Her eyes shine when she smiles, all greens and browns and golden flecks. For a moment, he’s simply lost in the wonder of her smile, of _her_ , in the amazement that someone like her exists and chooses to smile at _him_ – she makes him feel worthy of it, or makes him want to be worthy of it, at least.

“I like them.” She replies, beaming.

He leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, but she shifts upward, capturing his lips with her own. He’s surprised, though that does little to stop him from pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Though he is stuck on a ship at a fueling station in the cold, blackness of space, he feels like the air around him is made of sunshine. The bond is glowing – he feels like _he_ is glowing – from the sensation of her nearness.

She smiles against his lips when a low sound emanates from the back of his throat and Ben wonders what he ever did to deserve this, to deserve her. He already knows the answer, of course – nothing. In the entirety of his life, no choice he’s made or path he’s taken should have logically led up to this moment, but when she’s so near he can hardly bring himself to care.

“Ben,” Rey begins, her voice as impossibly soft the hand on his cheek. “You’re –” Whatever she had been about to say dies as her head snaps back, her shoulder’s tensing. “Oh, nothing.” She calls out to someone Ben can’t see. “I’m just checking the, um, supplies… making sure they’re… here.”

She turns out of Ben’s grasp and kneels down to pat something on her end of the bond that is invisible to him at first, but the second her hand hits it he sees the sizable metal crate pulse in and out of reality in time with her taps.

“Alright, everything looks…” Rey’s face falls into a glower. “Well, I don’t care what Ahsoka said, we’re not – look, I’ll talk to her myself once I finish up here.” She pauses, folding her arms over her chest as the other half of the conversation on her end speaks. “Yes, I know this is your ship.” She nods. “I know _, I know_ , I’ll straighten this all out, I promise.”

Ben feels something cold and dark and hard coiling in the pit of his stomach, like he’s swallowed a heavy stone. While he can’t say for sure, he’s fairly certain he could guess who is on the other end of that conversation. What will he do when he sees him again, when he sees Han Solo, sees his father? Logically, he knows that nothing has changed since the last time he saw the man back on the rebel base, but somehow, he can’t help but feel like everything has changed.

She stares at an empty patch of nothingness for a while, her shoulders set and tense. She shakes her head and huffs a frustrated sigh as she turns back around.

“Did you say ‘Ahsoka’, as in, Ahsoka Tano?”

Ben had met the woman a couple of times as a child, she’d been introduced as a friend of his uncle’s, a former student of the old Jedi Order, a former student of his grandfather’s, though the latter topic came up very rarely. She’d been distant, he remembers, especially after Luke started _his_ Jedi school.

“Yes,” Rey nods tightly. “You know her?”

“Not well. What is she doing there?” He can’t remember Ahsoka ever coming up in his family’s war stories.

“She’s –” Rey heaves a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping, one hand coming up to rub at her forehead. “I’m handling it.”

“Handling what?”

“She’s here to bring Luke and Leia to some other Jedi Master – Yoda?” She shakes her head, her jaw tightening in clear exasperation. “I’ve managed to convince her to bring along Han and I and I’ve been trying to get her to wait for you, but that’s been a bit harder – I’ll handle it though. Surely, we can wait a few more days, she’ll understand.”

Ben feels all of the air leave his body as he rubs one hand down his face, his shoulders sinking in resignation. He’d been already dreading going to the icy, desolate wasteland that is Hoth, but Dagobah? He _hates_ Dagobah.

He looks at Rey, he can see her tension as easily as he can feel it through the bond they share. He can see it in the dark circles under her eyes, in the hard line of her shoulders. He can feel her nerves fraying at the ends from trying, desperately, to keep everyone and everything together in his absence. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his body, just holds her tightly until he can feel some of her anxiety melt away. He doesn’t have much experience with comforting people and he hopes that he is doing the right things.

“No, go to Dagobah.” He sighs, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, pulling back a little bit to look into his eyes. The worry he sees there is both heady and heartbreaking.

“Yes, of course.” He says, trying to keep his distaste for the hellish swamp planet out of his tone. “It’s no farther than Hoth from where I am. It will be easier for everyone.”

“If you’re sure.” She says, sounding a little less than confident, herself.

“I am.” He cups the back of her head with one of his hands and brings her flush to him again. “Thank you,” He says softly. He can feel the bond wavering, they don’t have long. “For trying to wait for me, Rey.”

“I didn’t want you to get here and think that we… left you.” She says, her voice already sounding far away.

His chest tightens at that and he strives to pull her even closer to him. He’s known since the interrogation on Starkiller Base of the loneliness in her soul, the desolate solitude that echoes and reverberates at the same frequency as his own, their twin fears of being completely and utterly alone in the expansive and cold galaxy. Only she would understand how arriving on the base only to find them all gone would affect him. He’s silent for a long time simply because he knows he doesn’t have the words to express how much it means to him.

His heart is full of something he’s too afraid to name; afraid because he has so little experience with it. He doesn’t know _how_ to love someone. It’s wonderful and terrifying at the same time.

“Thank you,” He says again, though now it is only to empty air.

After a quiet moment Ben sits back down in the pilot’s seat and begins calculating a new hyperspace jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidious: It would seem that the son of Anakin Skywalker lives.  
> Vader: 
> 
> It was super fun to write from Chewie's POV in this chapter. His is not one I see often in fics, so imagining what his internal monologue would be like was really fun! Remember when I said I wasn't going to get too crazy with POVs? 🤣😬
> 
> Bless Benji, he's having a rough go of it... again. The boy is an angst machine, I swear (and I love it). Luckily, the Force hooks him and his gf up with a much-needed Force time connection - and if there's anything I love more than angsty Ben its soft boi Ben.
> 
> I promise that we will get to Dagobah soon! 😂 Thanks to everyone for the kudos and bookmarks and for your kind and thoughtful comments, I really love hearing what you all think! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thanks so much for reading! 😊💕
> 
> I have to give a HUGE shoutout to user The_Ameriican for making this beautiful art of our beloved boy in his favorite orange flight suit! It is so amazing, I knew I had to share it with all of you!! 💖💖💖


	19. Bottle Episode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He knew our parents?” Luke asks. “How?”
> 
> “He did not…” C-3PO starts but is interrupted by R2D2’s annoyed beeping. C-3PO emits a sound like a sigh before continuing. “He says he belonged to your mother before she gave him to your father as a wedding present and that I - well, that’s just not true! I would know who my maker… What do you mean ‘full memory wipe?’ I think I would remember something like that, you rusted out -”
> 
> “They were married?” Leia gasps, sounding just shy of horrified.
> 
> \---
> 
> Luke and Leia have a chat with the family droids, Leia and Rey braid hair and gab about boys, and Rey and Han talk about their pasts. It's a regular Skywalker Family slumber party! 😴🎉

Luke is sitting on the semi-circular seat surrounding the holotable in the lounge on the _Falcon_. Rey and Ahsoka are resting in the crew cabin, preparing to take over cockpit duties from Han and Chewie in a few standard hours - Luke couldn’t help but notice when he wasn’t given a shift to look after the cockpit. Honestly, it kind of burns him up that Han doesn’t seem to trust him with the _Falcon_ , hadn’t he proven himself as a decent pilot in the Battle of Yavin?

He tries not to dwell on it, instead, he pours every ounce of focus he has onto the fruit in front of him which just _won’t_ move! He narrows his concentration not on the bitter red skin or the soft flesh inside which shifts from a blood-orange near the rind to a bright, sunny yellow near the large pit, but on the field of energy that surrounds it. He pokes at that field with his own energy, prods it, begs it, to move, even just a little - nothing.

“C’mon, move you stupid muja fruit!” He whines, his hands balled into tight fists at his side.

At his outburst the fruit topples slightly, rolling around on the flat surface of the table in front of him. For a moment, he is delighted, until he realizes that it only moved because Leia had bumped the table with her hip as she slid into the seat beside him. He hangs his head as he begins to peel the fruit, deciding that if he can’t practice using the Force as Rey had suggested, he can at least fill his stomach

“Sorry,” Leia says as she sits.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says with a shrug, his mouth full of fruit - it tastes like defeat. “I wouldn’t have gotten it anyway.”

“What were you trying to do?”

“Use the Force to manipulate this fruit.” He shakes the disobedient piece of food accusatorily, its juices snaking down his arm, likely staining the sleeve of his jumpsuit. Leia’s eyes widen in what might be disbelief, so he adds, “I should be able to, in theory, but I just can’t. It’s…” He stops himself short. He’d promised Rey and Ahsoka that he would stop saying that things are ‘impossible.’ “Really hard.”

“Hmm,” Leia hums thoughtfully. “It seems like it would be a useful skill to have.”

“Oh, definitely.” Luke agrees, nodding and taking another bite of the fruit. “I just wish it was easier, you know? Ahsoka says I let myself get frustrated too easily, that I should meditate more - but, honestly, it’s just really boring.” He admits with a laugh.

“Well, don’t let yourself get too discouraged.” Leia says with an encouraging smile. “You’ve only been at it for, what, a few weeks?”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees with a puff of laughter. “I didn’t even know what the Force was a few weeks ago.” He looks at Leia who smiles knowingly. Both of their lives have changed so drastically in such a short span of time. “Or who my – our – parents were outside of the name ‘Anakin Skywalker’,” Luke watches his sister’s jaw set at the mention of their father’s name, but she says nothing. “I’d never even heard the name Padmé before our meeting with your father.”

“I had,” Leia reveals softly. “She and my father were good friends and he spoke of her, but he never mentioned… He never told me.” She shakes her head, her tone only slightly bitter.

“What do you know about her?” Luke asks, ravenous as ever for any and every scrap of information on his parents.

“She was a senator.” Leia says with a small smile. Something warm, something like pride rolls off of Luke’s sister, fills the room. “And a queen before that.”

“A _Queen_?” Luke balks. “Does that mean… are we… am I _…_ ” His voice lowers to a whisper. “ _A prince_?”

“No,” Leia says and Luke can tell that she is struggling not to laugh. “‘Queen’ on Naboo, where Pad - our mother - is from is an elected position, not passed down through families like on Alderaan. She served her terms and then was asked to represent the planet in the Galactic Senate by the next Queen.”

Luke nods, though he’s not really sure he understands. His head is swimming. His mother had been a queen, his sister is a princess, and he’s… just Luke - a farmer from Tatooine, a nowhere planet which has always seemed to him to be the furthest point from the bright center of the galaxy. Nothing of any significance ever happened on, or came from, the old dust ball, and yet, here he is.

Luke is so lost in his own mind that he doesn’t hear R2D2 beeping something just to his left.

“Huh? What was that?” Luke asks.

“Oh, what are you on about now, Artoo?” C-3PO asks as he waddles over. “Oh, well! Don’t go spreading lies, you old rust bucket!” C-3PO reprimands the astromech droid who warbles heatedly in response. “Why, I never!”

“What’s he saying, Threepio?” Luke asks. His fruit is all but gone, only the pit remains. He rolls the brown seed between his fingers absentmindedly.

“Nothing but nonsense, I assure you, Master Luke.” C-3PO explains, turning to Luke and Leia. “I sincerely apologize for his behavior.” R2D2 beeps something rapidly that Luke is sure he wouldn’t be able to follow, even if he understood binary. “No, I will not tell them that, you rolling trashcan!”

“Why don’t you just tell us, Threepio?” Leia says, sounding amused.

“I, well - He’s saying that he knew your parents.” C-3PO says. “Clearly, his circuits are fried.”

“He knew our parents?” Luke asks. “How?”

“He did not…” C-3PO starts but is interrupted by R2D2’s annoyed beeping. C-3PO emits a sound like a sigh before continuing. “He says he belonged to your mother before she gave him to your father as a wedding present and that I - well, that’s just not true! I would know who my Maker… What do you mean ‘full memory wipe?’ I think I would remember something like that, you rusted out -”

“They were _married_?” Leia gasps, sounding just shy of horrified.

“You really knew our parents, Artoo?” Luke asks, leaning down to get closer to the old astromech, placing a hand on his domed head. R2D2 warbles something and Luke wishes he understood what all of the beeping meant.

“He says that he was your father’s astromech during the Clone Wars, but that’s impossible because during that time we were…” C-3PO trails off for a moment. “Well that’s strange, that data seems to be corrupted.”

“Wow,” Luke says, an amazed smile spreading across his face. His father’s droid! What were the odds of it ending up with him? “Leia, isn’t this…” Luke looks up, but Leia is gone.

* * *

Leia leaves Luke and the droids to their conversation without a word and if any of them notice her departure, they don’t mention it. She is quite done learning about her ‘parents’ for the day, perhaps even for the rest of her life. She knows for a fact that she is more than done learning about the Clone Wars _hero_ , Anakin Skywalker. She doesn’t want to hear any more of it. What do his heroics under the Republic matter when she knows of the atrocities he’s committed in the name of the Empire? How could it matter to her that he was the _Hero Without Fear_ when she knows that he is now the _Fist of the Empire_ , a brutal man capable of heinous, violent acts in the name of tyranny? It makes her sick to hear about him at all.

Her mother, on the other hand… Leia has heard of Padmé Amidala, the senator and beloved former Queen of Naboo. Her father spoke of his old friend often - Leia now wonders if he’d had some ulterior motive in this, if he’d wanted to tell her about her mother, only he could not do so directly. Leia has always had a healthy amount of respect for the woman, but now, knowing that she is her mother? It fills Leia with a sense of pride, but also deep confusion.

Padmé and Anakin had been _married_ , they’d been in love, and Leia just doesn’t understand it. She doesn’t understand the woman who could love a monster. How could a woman who had loved the Republic so much, who had believed so deeply in what it stood for, fall for the man who had help see to its destruction?

Leia knows that Ahsoka and her father would tell her that Padmé had loved Anakin Skywalker, not Darth Vader, but Leia doesn’t see much of a difference. Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader, whether he’s changed his name or donned a mask matters very little in Leia’s opinion. The same man lives behind that mask, the same heart beats within that chest, and she just does not see how a heart can change so drastically.

Leia hates Anakin Skywalker, hates _Vader_. She hates him for the terrible things he’s done, for his atrocities, his crimes, but what she really hates him for is his blood – her blood, the blood they share. She feels unclean, sullied, knowing that she is of that monster, like she is covered in stains that can never wash clean no matter how hard she scrubs at them.

As Leia slowly stalks the rounded corridors of the _Falcon_ , her fingers trailing along the dingy walls lightly, she decides that she could use a bit of distraction. She’s frustrated - for a variety of reasons. She’s frustrated with her confusion about her biological parents and Luke’s obsession with them. She’s frustrated with her father, for his secrets, for sending her away. Mostly, she’s upset about her distance from the Rebel Alliance. She’s worked so hard to become a trusted member of the Alliance, to make herself an asset, and now she has to run off, flee into hiding. It is all so very, incredibly _frustrating_ and she would like to not think of any of it for a little while.

She’s about to turn around and head towards the cockpit of the ship when she passes one of the ship’s holds, the door left open. Rey is sitting on a box, her focus trained intently on what looks like a pile of scrap metal and a single blue gem laid out carefully on a crate in front of her. The girl blows at a bit of loose hair falling into her face, her hands too preoccupied with tinkering to brush it away properly. The braids she’d asked Leia about days ago are still there, but only just. They’ve come loose and are falling limply from their design. Leia has offered to redo them several times, but Rey has always refused. It’s almost kind of sweet, Leia thinks.

“May I come in?” Leia asks, one hand rapping on the wall outside of the hold, the other held behind her back.

Rey’s head shoots up, her eyes wide as well as a red, the skin around them puffed and irritated. She is clearly startled by the sound, but she smiles when she sees Leia and nods her head, allowing entry.

“Of course,”

“What is all of that?” Leia asks curiously, gesturing one hand at the materials spread out on the crate.

“Just working on my lightsaber.” Rey says nonchalantly. She waves her hand in the air and the pieces fly up to meet each other, every bit fitting perfectly with another until they’ve constructed the silver tube Leia now recognizes as a lightsaber hilt. She smiles fondly, remembering poor Luke struggling to lift a piece of fruit earlier. “Is there something you needed, Leia?”

“Oh, no, I was just…” Leia trails off as the girl starts blowing at errant strands of hair again in a vain attempt to get them out of her eyes. “Can I please help you with your hair, Rey?” Leia laughs, pointing one finger at the girl’s tumbling braids.

Rey chews on the inside of her lip for a moment, clearly conflicted, before she nods. Leia sits down on one of the crates and motions for Rey to come sit on the ground in front of her. After moving, Rey just sits there for a moment, neither of them doing anything until Leia realizes the girl is waiting for Leia to begin removing the old braids.

“Do you want to take your braids out yourself?” Leia asks with a puff of nervous laughter.

“Oh, sorry!” Rey says, her hands flying up to her head, her fingers twining in the braids, pulling strand after strand loose, her hair falling to her shoulders in rumpled chestnut waves.

“No need to be sorry,” Leia assures gently. “It’s – ah,” She laughs, feeling a little silly. “On Alderaan, taking out someone’s braids is a very… intimate act. I know you’re unaware of the custom, but it would feel strange.”

“Really?” Rey asks, craning her neck to look back at Leia, looking a little perplexed or, perhaps skeptical.

“Yes, well, many planets have quirks and customs unique to their cultures.” Leia says, trying not to sound defensive. “I’m sure there are things like that where you’re from?”

“Ha!” Rey barks a dry-sounding laugh as she frees the last bits of her hair. “There’s no _culture_ on Jakku.” She says bitterly. “Nothing but sand and scavengers.”

“Jakku?” Leia asks absentmindedly as her fingers begin to work in the girl’s hair. She’s heard of the planet, but only in name. Somewhere in the Western Reaches, she thinks? She decides on a simple crown braid, something that will keep Rey’s hair from her eyes, though Leia is careful to choose a design with little to no meaning. There’s no need to confuse the poor old protocol droid further.

“It’s nowhere.”

“No place is nowhere.” Leia says. “Is your family from Jakku?”

She regrets the question instantly, and, really, she should know better. If there is anything the past few days should have taught her, it’s that the subject of _family_ isn’t always a safe one. Rey’s shoulder’s slump and it’s like Leia can feel the pain radiating off of her, old hurt and sadness, biting deep into Leia’s bones.

“I don’t know where my family is from.” Rey says and her words are not bitter, that’s not the right word, more like hollow, empty, desolate.

“I’m sorry, Rey.” Leia says, apologizing both for her lack of tact and for the girl’s pain.

Rey looks back at her, more affection in her eyes than one should probably have for someone they only met a few days ago, but Leia cannot find it in her heart to care. She continues braiding and tries to think of a change of subject, something lighter, perhaps.

“So, who’s the special person?” She asks after some time.

“Who is _who_?” Rey asks, sounding genuinely confused.

“You know,” Leia nudges the back of Rey’s shoulder playfully. “The one who gave you the braids – I have to admit, I was surprised. I mean, you and Ben seemed pretty cozy on the _Falcon_ , but I’m not –”

“It was Ben.” Rey explains, laughing a little awkwardly, though Leia hardly understands why.

“But… how?” Leia asks, her hands have stopped working in her confusion. “You said that he never made it off of Yavin, that he would be meeting us…”

“I did,” Rey agrees, her shoulders tensing noticeably. “It’s – the Force. Ben and I… We have a bond, it’s hard to explain, but it was him.” She assures.

“Alright,” Leia says slowly, deciding not to ask the thousands of questions screaming through her mind. She thinks that she is quite done learning about the Force for a little while as well. “So Ben, is he from Alderaan, then?”

“Um, no – no he’s not.” Rey responds a little tightly.

“A relative then, perhaps one of his parents?” Leia knows at this point that she is prying, that she is toeing the line of rude yet again, but her curiosity has gotten the better of her. There is something about this Ben, something she recognizes. If one of his parents were from Alderaan, perhaps she would have seen him at a gala or an event years ago – that would explain the recognition, surely.

“I, uh…” Rey stutters a bit, her shoulders going rigid. Leia’s stomach drops in shame, she opens her mouth to take the question back, to apologize, but Rey speaks again before she has the chance. “His mother – I think.” The girl says stiffly.

“Well, that makes sense.” Leia says, keeping her own voice light to distract from Rey’s discomfort. “From what I remember, Ben has wonderful hair – no Alderaanian mother could resist braiding that, I’m sure.”

And any good Alderaanian mother would teach her children how to braid, even a few simple things – though Leia wonders what kind of woman would teach her son the royal braids? Perhaps his mother would braid them into his hair when he was small, crowning him as her little prince. Yes, that makes sense, Leia decides.

“How did the two of you meet?”

“Who? Ben and I?” Rey asks. She laughs and, again, there’s that awkwardness that Leia cannot explain. Perhaps Rey is simply unaccustomed to ‘girl talk’.

As much as she would deny it if someone asked her outright, Leia misses her friends back home. She _lives_ for her work in the Alliance, she loves fighting for justice and making a difference and would not give it up for the galaxy, but sometimes she misses the simpler pleasantries of her life back home on Alderaan – But that line of thinking… it’s silly and stupid, two things that Leia Organa is decidedly not.

Leia sighs audibly. Here she is, forcing poor Rey into a conversation she is clearly uncomfortable with, all because of how nice it feels to be able to speak with someone her own age, not about the fate of the galaxy, but about something as inconsequential as a boy the girl likes. It makes Leia feel a little foolish and a lot like a child, and her frustration is back. She tucks the last strands of Rey’s hair into the completed crown of plaits.

“All done,” Leia says a little too somberly. Rey looks back with questioning eyes and Leia tries to give her a smile but is fairly sure she fails. “I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll head to the cabins to get some rest. Thank you for speaking with me, Rey.” She turns and leaves before Rey can say anything more.

* * *

Rey frowns as she watches Leia leave the hold. She’s not sure exactly what she has done to upset the princess, but she knows that she’s done _something_. Likely, it was her inability to answer any of Leia’s questions like a sane person. She’d stumbled over nearly every answer she’d given, but the longer she spends in the past the harder it becomes to hold even a simple conversation with someone out of fear that she will reveal too much of the future.

She brings a hand up to her face to rub at her eyes. She can tell they are still a little puffy and they still have that dull sting from crying.

She’d dreamt she was back home and her friends were there, Finn, Poe, Rose - everyone in the Resistance. They laughed and joked with her, but something was missing. Ben was nowhere to be found. She’d searched for him in the Force, through their bond but he wasn’t there, he was _gone_. She’d awoken from that dream, her heart racing, her stomach churning with nausea, her face covered in tears, and knew that she’d be getting no more sleep any time soon.

She misses them all. She misses Finn, her first and best friend. She misses Rose who she has only recently met but has grown so close to in such a short time. She misses Poe who can be extremely difficult but always has a kind heart and the good of the Resistance in mind. She misses Leia, her mentor and master who is here but also isn’t. She misses her friends dearly, but can she keep them _and_ Ben? When they get back to their own time, if Ben does decide to go with her, leave the First Order, will her friends accept him? She thinks she might know the answer already and it makes her feel sick again.

She’d decided to work on her saber, Ahsoka had given her a few tips on how to improve some of the repairs Rey had made after the hilt had been split, when Leia had come in. Leia who had been so kind, who had only wanted to talk - and Rey had gone and upset her. She sighs as she clips her saber back to her belt.

She wanders the halls of the _Falcon_ , tired, confused, and feeling a little empty. She has no destination in mind, but she finds herself in the cockpit after not too long. Han is alone, his feet kicked up on the console in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest, staring out into hyperspace.

“Where’s Chewie?” She inquires. Han swings around and rolls his eyes, a half-smile smirk on his lips.

“Old guy was tired, so I sent him off early.” He gestures to the co-pilot’s seat beside him. “Could use the company if you wanna stay.”

Rey nods in agreement as she sinks down into the familiar seat. Something beeps on the console in front of her. She leans in to get a better look. It’s nothing, really. She presses a few buttons to silence the sound.

“So, how long you been flyin’?” Han asks from the seat next to hers.

“Actually flying?” She begins, leaning back. “About six months, but I ran a lot of flight simulators back on… back home.”

“Sims ain’t nothin’ like the real thing.” Han says with a laugh.

“No, you’re right about that.” She agrees with a sigh.

“You’re a pretty alright mechanic too. You do a lot of that back home?”

“Yeah,” Rey huffs.

“So, you goin’ back _home_ when this is all over?” He gestures around himself with his hands.

“No - I, uh, there’s nothing to go back to.” Rey says softly.

“Hmm,” Han hums in agreement. “I know what that’s like.”

“Where are you from?” Rey asks.

“Corellia - it’s a real hellhole, I don’t recommend it.” He laughs but Rey thinks there might be something bitter under the humor.

“I’ll take your word for it, but it can’t be nearly as bad as Jakku.”

“Jakku?” Han sits up, his eyebrows raising to his hairline. “You’re from that trash-heap?... No offense.”

“None taken.” Rey says flatly, rolling her eyes.

“Well, then I can see why you wouldn’t want to go back.” He shakes his head as he leans against the back of the seat. “So, you’re not going home - you got plans at all for after you’ve saved the galaxy, Rey?” He asks with a sarcastic smirk.

“I don’t know.” She answers truthfully, shrugging her shoulders.

“Well, you’re a decent pilot and a pretty good mechanic.” Han shrugs dismissively and brings one hand up to his chin to rub at the scruff there. “I’m sure you could get a job on a ship… somewhere.”

“You offering?” Rey asks with a laugh even as her heart constricts remembering the offer Han had made her once. _I wouldn’t pay you well - I wouldn’t be nice to ya_. She’d wanted to accept his offer almost as much as she’d wanted to take his son’s hand only days later, but she’d had to refuse both.

“Nah,” Han says with a laugh of his own. “Nothing against you, kid.” He reassures her. “But Chewie’s all the crew I need - and anyway, I’m pretty sure you and Ben are a package deal, and I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Ben likes you!” Rey says quickly without thinking too much of the words coming out of her mouth. Han raises one eyebrow speculatively, one corner of his mouth still turned upwards.

“Well, the big guy’s opinion of me notwithstanding, I’m not looking to take on one crew member let alone two, and I’m pretty sure that big lug’d follow you anywhere.”

“You’d be surprised.” Rey mumbles, toying at the hem of her tunic.

“I would be.” Han agrees. “I mean, he’s following you to Dagobah, isn’t he?” He watches her for a moment and continues when she doesn’t respond. “Listen, I’ve been around for a while and I’d like to think I know a thing or two about people, how to read ‘em, ya know? And I _know_ the look a guy has when he’s lost his mind about a girl, it’s how your guy looks at you all the time.”

“And how does he look at me, exactly?” Rey asks, laughing lightly.

“Like a fucking idiot.”

It’s not long until Ahsoka relieves Han. She and Rey spend their shift in the cockpit of the _Falcon_ mostly in companionable silence. Rey still doesn’t know what she should and shouldn’t say to the woman, but they find a few safe topics of discussion, one of which being lightsabers. Rey shows Ahsoka the repairs that she’s recently made and the former Jedi padawan give her a few more tips on how to better the design. Ahsoka also takes a bit of time to show Rey her own sabers, of which she has _two_ , something that gives Rey an idea.

“Before I had this,” Rey jostles the saber hilt in her hand. “I had a quarterstaff – do you think you could make a staff with lightsabers?”

Ahsoka’s brows rise and fall in quick succession before she rolls her eyes and laughs, clipping her sabers back to the belt at her waist.

“I know you could.” She chuckles.

She listens to Ahsoka speak about different lightsaber forms. There’s no room for practical demonstrations within the limited confines of the cockpit, of course, but Ahsoka promises to show her a few moves once they reach Dagobah.

The hours pass without any issues arising. Han and Chewie arrive in the cockpit just in time to pull the ship out of hyperspace. Ahsoka leans into the viewport, one hand on the pilot and co-pilot’s seat each. Rey can feel the other woman reaching out with the Force.

“I can barely sense him.” Ahsoka says shaking her head, her lekku swaying with the movement. “The Force here, it’s too pure, he’s not...”

“So, you’re saying whoever we’re looking for, he could be anywhere on this planet and we have no way of finding him?” Han asks as he pilots the ship low and slow over the dense canopy of trees below. “ _Great_.” He growls.

“Just land over there,” Ahsoka says with an annoyed huff as she points to a small clearing.

The air on Dagobah is thick with humidity and has a strong, vile odor. Rey practically wretches as she steps out of the ship. The ground is soft with mud everywhere it isn’t underwater and much of it is covered with a dense, white fog. Snakes dangle from tree limbs nearby and animals call out into the midday sun as it tries its best to peek through the trees’ leaves.

“We should head this way,” Ahsoka says, pointing off into the tree line. “I’m sure of it.”

“Sounds great, sister.” Han says folding his arms across his chest, leaning back on one of the struts of the _Falcon_ ’s gangplank. He lifts his foot to kick a bit of mud off of his boot. “You all have fun on your little swamp adventure. I’ll be here.”

“No way, and leave us stranded here?” Ahsoka asks, rounding on the pilot.

Chewie rumbles that they wouldn’t leave anyone behind and Ahsoka’s rigid posture softens slightly.

“I know you wouldn’t, Chewie.” She says with a nod. “It’s _him_ I’m worried about.” She inclines her head at Han who rolls his eyes.

“Hey, I gave you my word. Here and back, right?”

“Yeah, and a smuggler’s word’s about as good as…”

“Expecting so many, I was not.” A voice, one cracking with age, rings out behind them.

Rey whirls around to see a small green alien leaning heavily on a gimmer stick. Deep lines crease his face and thin white hairs poke out from behind his ears. He wears loose, rough spun robes of tan and brown. He considers them all quietly for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“Master Yoda,” Ahsoka says, her voice soft, sounding almost surprised.

“Ahsoka,” He nods in her direction. “Good to see you again, it is – and you too, Chewbacca.”

“Wait a minute!” Han cries from behind Rey. “You know _him_ too?” Chewie only laughs at Han’s question. “What the hell, Chewie?”

“Come, all of you.” Yoda says turning slowly. “More soup, I must make.” He adds with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the spicy language at the end there - I hope that's not inappropriate for a T-rated fic! I tried to think of how movie ratings work and you can squeeze one f-bomb into a movie rated PG-13, so I thought it was fair. I thought about having Han say "Like a kriffing idiot." But I just can't see him saying that! 😕 He's a salty sailor, what can I say?
> 
> Speaking of salty - Leia's gonna have sodium overload if she hears one more thing about that dumb old dad of hers! She really doesn't like the guy! Luke, on the other hand just can't get enough. He's ravenous for information about the 'rents. Hmm... I wonder what dear old dad is up to right about now, anyway? Probably nothing! 🤷♀️😜
> 
> Rey's had a fun trip, wouldn't you say? Dodging Leia's questions about Ben like a pro. 🥴 Keep it up, Rey! 👍 Side note, I really liked having Rey and Han have a brief convo about their pasts as I think their childhoods were pretty similar. They both grew up without parental influences, basically raising themselves. They've got a lot in common - and I love them both! 😍
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for your kind support on this fic! It honestly blows me away. I love, love, love hearing what you all think, so thank you for your always kind and thoughtful comments! You're all angels! 😇 You guys bring me so much joy in a time that can be really scary. I hope that everyone is safe and well. Thank you all so much for reading! 💕😊


	20. Dagobah Days Driftin' Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come to you, I will.” The old Jedi Grand Master says, his gimer stick digging into the soft soil at their feet. “Even old as I am.” He looks between Ben and Rey, judging, assessing? Ben can’t tell.
> 
> “Master Yoda,” Rey begins, “This is Ben, the one I told you about, the one from the…”
> 
> “Future, yes, future.” Yoda says with a hum. “Moves around you strangely, it does, the Force. Out of place, you are. Out of time.”
> 
> “Obviously,” Ben deadpans.
> 
> \---
> 
> Ben meets up with the 'gang' and meets up with an old, green frienemy of the family. Han and Leia are back at it again and just about no one approves. Vader spends some time on one of his favorite planets dwelling on the fond memories he's made there.

Ben arrives on Dagobah in the late afternoon with plenty of light left in the day to navigate his ship over the dense canopy of swamp trees which conceal a veritable collection of truly awful creatures. He groans miserably as he lowers the ship towards the planet. He really, _really_ hates Dagobah – and not just because it’s a, frankly, terrible place. It’s the memories.

He’s been here once before, only once. Luke never brought him, a different master did. Snoke. He’d taken Ben to a cave, one reeking of darkness, death, and more, and urged him to go inside.

 _What’s in there_? Ben had asked.

 _Only what you’ve been too weak to bury_. Had been Snoke’s only answer.

He’d seen Luke in the cave, the Luke who hadn’t wanted to fight him, just like in real life, but Ben hadn’t cared. He’d struck his former master down without worry, without a second thought – but he hadn’t been done. His parents had been there too, calling him ‘Ben’, though he’d eschewed that name by that point, begging him to come home, assuring him that he was loved and that he was still their son.

Snoke wanted him to destroy them as he’d done with Luke, bury them with the past – but he couldn’t. They were only visions, but he destroyed the cave around him rather than strike them down. He couldn’t kill the version of his father that was nothing more than mist and energy, but he’d slaughtered the real thing only years later. Being back here sets his skin on edge.

Ben has a vague idea of where Yoda’s home might be, so long as it is not too far from that cave, which is still intact, not yet destroyed. He lands in a clearing where the ground seems solid enough that his ship won’t simply just sink into the mud and slime and clambers out into the hot, humid air. He chokes on the rank odor that permeates the planet and unclips his saber hilt from his newly acquired belt. The fauna of this planet can be dangerous, he remembers, most are equipped with sharp teeth and talons and often poisonous venom to boot.

The brush becomes too thick to transverse easily after a little while so Ben ignites his saber, slashing and hacking through the thick vines and brambles. He reaches out through the Force. He can feel Rey, she’s here, and he follows the golden thread that binds them, allows it to lead him to her.

“Stop right there.” A voice behind him grounds out.

Ben whirls around as best he can in the slippery terrain. Ahsoka Tano stands before him, her sabers, their blades blinding and white, positioned before and behind her held in a reverse grip, her knees crouched in a defensive stance, her face contorted into a scowl. Ben sighs.

“Tano, I –” Ben begins, his free hand coming up to rub at his temple.

“Don’t move!” She warns, brandishing her sabers threateningly. “Who sent you?” She asks and suddenly Ben is back on Tatooine being interrogated by Obi Wan Kenobi.

“No one _sent_ me.” He assures slowly, disengaging his lightsaber, keeping his hands held out in front of him. “I –”

“Who are you?”

“I – I’m Ben.” He says, stuttering slightly. It’s the first time he’s introduced himself by that name in years – the first time he’s _said_ it in just as long. It feels strange in his mouth, foreign and slightly forbidden, but ‘Kylo Ren’ would feel worse, he knows.

Ahsoka stands up straighter, her narrowed eyes move up and down his body, taking him in, landing on the lightsaber hilt in his hand and staying there for a fraction of a second longer than anywhere else. Her own sabers fall to her sides, but the white blades stay lit.

“ _You’re_ Ben?” She asks, nose scrunching up in disapproval. Ben nods curtly and she sighs. “Rey didn’t tell me you –” She shakes her head and flicks off her lightsabers, though she keeps the hilts in her hands. “Come on,” She says turning around. “Master Yoda wants to meet with you.”

Ben clips his lightsaber hilt to his belt and follows Ahsoka through the dense swamp. She cranes her neck to look back at him several times, her eyes screaming with distrust, clearly uncomfortable with him behind her.

“I come in peace, Tano.” Ben grumbles. “Would you be more comfortable if _I_ walked in front?”

“Actually, yeah, I would.” She says falling back. “Just keep going straight for now.”

They walk for a short while, Ahsoka uttering terse directions every once in a while. They reach another clearing, larger than the one he’d landed the _Shadow_ in. The _Falcon_ is here, and so is Ben’s family, but he doesn’t notice any of them, his vision tunneling in on Rey the second he sees her. She is speaking with Luke about something but turns her head as Ben crosses the tree line, as if made aware of his presence through the Force. Her face lights up, a warm smile spreading quickly across it.

Rey crosses the clearing and throws her arms around Ben who can’t help but smile again because she’s really here and so is he, the Force can’t rip them apart this time. He holds her close and breathes her in. The bond they share feels more natural, more welcoming than ever. It flows between them with warmth and familiarity. It feels like home and Ben is shocked he remembers what that feels like at all.

“ _This_ is Ben?” Ahsoka asks Rey when they pull apart. The Togruta woman crosses her arms in front of her chest, her brows drawn together, looking between Ben and Rey in clear disapproval.

“Yes?” Rey answers.

“You didn’t tell me he used the Dark Side.” Ahsoka says, her eyes falling on the lightsaber hilt at Ben’s waist again.

Ben almost laughs – almost. He’s not sure how she can sense any Darkness inside of him while the Light burns so painfully bright. There _is_ Darkness there, coiling coldly in his chest, but it is so quiet now, hardly a whisper. A threat or a promise, he can’t say.

As a padawan in Luke’s Jedi school, he’d read something in one of the old texts which has always stuck with him. _Once the Dark path is chosen, forever will it dominate its user’s destiny_ – had been the rough translation. The Jedi who had written it had surely meant it as a warning, which is how a young Ben Solo had taken it – an older Ben Solo, the one who called himself Kylo Ren, took it as a promise. A promise of a future without conflict once he finally committed himself, dedicated everything he had to the Dark Side – that never happened, of course. He’s not sure how much truth there is in the old, long-dead Jedi’s words, but he’s also not sure he will ever have a life free from it, the Dark, if he even wants that, if that were ever possible for him.

“It wasn’t important.” Rey says flippantly, her eyes falling to the ground.

“It wasn’t imp –”

“I assure you, I am on your side, Ahsoka.” Ben says flatly. Ahsoka looks him up and down again, her eyes surveying.

“Do we know each other in your time?” She asks, her voice low, her brows raising minutely.

“Do we…”Ben sputters, his mind going blank at the question. _Your time_? What could she… How could she… Ben’s head swivels around. “Rey?”

Rey, for her part, does not seem surprised or in any way flustered. Instead, her mouth sets in a hard line and she looks Ben directly in the eyes, her shoulders squaring.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She says pointing one finger up at his face. “I didn’t have a choice. She saw Luke’s lightsaber, what was I supposed to do?”

“It’s Anakin’s lightsaber,” Ahsoka corrects offhandedly before turning her attention back to Ben and nodding. “I recognized it right away.”

Ben bows his head and sighs.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Master Yoda.” Ahsoka answers.

“Okay,” Ben says, nodding. “Okay.” Things could be worse. No one in his family knows – well, besides Vader – and he’d prefer to keep it that way.

“And he does want to see you, so let’s go.” Ahsoka says, finally clipping her lightsabers to the belt at her hips. She inclines her head, beckoning them to follow. Rey instantly grabs hold of Ben’s hand, lacing her fingers through his. It fills him with a sense of peace he only feels when she is near and he exhales as a wave of tension leaves his body.

Ben hears Luke call his name from somewhere else in the clearing, but he ignores him. He does not have the energy, nor the patience to deal with his uncle right now. Ahsoka casts him and Rey sidelong glances as they make their way through the tree line towards wherever Yoda’s home must be. She’s frowning still, but she seems a fair bit more relaxed than she had previously.

“So, do we?” She asks after a short time.

“Do we what?” Ben asks once he realizes that her question is directed at him.

“Know each other.”

“We’ve met.” Ben answers quietly. “A few times – when I was young.”

Ahsoka hums softly at that, confirmation that she has heard him, but says nothing more. They approach a small, domed structure, a hut. Ahsoka stops in front of it and a huff of dry laughter escapes Ben’s throat.

“There’s no way I’m getting in there.” The home looks like it would be an appropriate size for a human child, or an alien of equivalent size. Ben’s not even sure he could fit through the small doorway if he tried. Ahsoka shoots him a mild scowl, but before she can say anything, a small, green alien crosses the threshold of the hut.

“Come to you, I will.” The old Jedi Grand Master says, his gimer stick digging into the soft soil at their feet. “Even old as I am.” He looks between Ben and Rey, judging, assessing? Ben can’t tell.

“Master Yoda,” Rey begins, “This is Ben, the one I told you about, the one from the…”

“Future, yes, future.” Yoda says with a hum. “Moves around you strangely, it does, the Force. Out of place, you are. Out of time.”

“Obviously,” Ben deadpans.

“Know how this happened, you do not?” He asks, though Ben is certain his uncle’s old master knows the answer already.

“No,” Ben answers, shaking his head slightly.

“Strange, hmm, very strange.” Yoda says, narrowing his eyes which look at nothing and no one in particular. “Disturbing, yes.”

“Have you ever heard of anything like this, Master Yoda?” Ahsoka asks from where she leans her back against the curved wall of his hut.

“Heard of this, never, no.” The old master shakes his head, perhaps in despair. “The will of the Force, this is.”

“Well, then what does it want?” Ben asks with a frustrated sigh having heard enough about the _will of the Force_ to last him a couple of lifetimes.

“Know this, none of us can.”

“Great,” Ben mutters, running one hand through his hair.

“So, how do you know the Skywalkers in your time?” Ahsoka asks and Ben frowns deeply. Rey looks up at him and he shakes his head ever so slightly. He can see no benefit to telling Ahsoka his relation to Han, Leia, and Luke – it can only lead to further complications.

“Another Skywalker, he is.” Yoda says pointing his little stick directly at Ben, nearly poking his knee.

Ben’s mouth opens and closes dumbly for a moment or two, nothing escaping him but air and pure surprise, until realization hits him hard and fast.

“Kenobi told you.” Ben says and it is as much an accusation as it is a question. Yoda laughs, a high, crackling sound, one that seems almost a little too manic for the Grand Master of the old Jedi Order. Of course, he has been alone on this Force-forsaken swamp planet for nearly twenty years, maybe just about anyone would go a little mad under those circumstances, even a revered Jedi Master.

“Tell me, he did.” Yoda agrees with a nod, his tone pleased and a bit mischievous. “But sense it, also, I do.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Ashoka says, her hands held out in front of her, her eyes closed. “ _You_ are a Skywalker?” She looks up, pointing at him, her tone heavy with allegation.

“I – The others in my time might disagree with the title,” Ben says, his voice low. He is careful to keep his tone free from any of the emotions that might linger behind those words. He can feel Rey stiffen beside him, can see her look up in his direction out of the corners of his eyes, but he presses on. “But, yes, I suppose I am, technically.”

“How?”

“Leia – Leia is my mother.” He grounds out, his jaw tense. He hasn’t claimed her as such out loud in years. It feels strange, wrong, criminal, almost – like he shouldn’t be allowed to, and maybe he shouldn’t, after all he has done. Rey’s grip on his hand tightens but he doesn’t look at her.

“And Solo – he had to come because Solo is your…”

“Yes,” Ben snaps before she can say it. His entire body has gone rigid. His own voice echoes in his ears, through his mind.

 _I killed Han Solo_.

“There must be some way for us to get back.” Rey says and she sounds like she’s pleading. She leans slightly as if getting closer to Yoda’s level will make the old Grand Master more sympathetic to her plight. “Maybe we’re meant to tell you – to _warn_ you about what happens next – what’s coming!”

“Rey, I don’t think that would be…” Ben begins but is interrupted by Yoda.

“No, no.” Yoda says firmly, stamping his gimer stick into the mud. “Reveal anything of the future, you should not. Always in motion, the future is. Always changing, growing, evolving.” He hums thoughtfully. “By the will of the Force, are you here. By the will of the Force will you go.”

“And while you interpret the ‘ _will of the Force_ ’,” Ben begins, no small amount of mockery in his tone. Ahsoka and Rey both shoot him slightly venomous looks, but he ignores them, plowing on. “What would you have us do?”

“Meditate on all of this, I must.” Yoda sighs, turning to hobble back into his hut. “Tomorrow, will the Skywalker’s training begin.”

* * *

After getting their first glimpse of the tiny, domed structure the old green alien calls a home, everyone quickly realized they would need to find somewhere else to sleep. The _gang_ decides on the _Falcon_ , something Han notices he is not consulted on in any way, though when Ben arrives, Han is pretty sure Rey’ll be sleeping on his ship.

“Nice ship,” Han calls out to the big guy as he lumbers down the entry ramp of the, surely very expensive and certainly very _stolen_ , Baudo-class yacht. “Very _sleek_.” Ben shoots him a poisonous glower which makes Han laugh. He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of riling the guy up.

The sun sets quickly on Dagobah, swiftly dipping below the tree line, throwing the swampy planet into cool, moonless darkness. Han helps the kid set up a bonfire in the middle of the clearing between the two ships. It’s a wonder how they find enough dry wood.

“Fancy matchstick, kid.” Han mutters as the kid sticks the tip of his blue blade into the pile of lumber to set it alight. “You know I got actual matches on the ship.” Han says, jutting his thumb out behind him towards where the _Falcon_ sits.

“Oh,” Luke says, his face going red. “Well, it worked anyway.” He shrugs, inclining his head towards the glowing fire below him.

“Sure did,” Han laughs.

Rey moves a few fallen logs around the fire for seating, they float up into the air, following the movement of her hands in a way Han is sure he will never not find unsettling. The kid tries to help, but his own log struggles to make it off the ground, when it does finally achieve lift-off the kid whoops enthusiastically. Rey laughs as the log falls back into the water-logged soil with a wet squish.

“I did it!” Luke cries, his fist pumping victoriously into the air. “Did you see that?”

“Sure did,” Ahsoka says from where she has been watching. She flicks her fingers in his direction. “Now do it again.”

Yoda does not join in on the festivities, something Han doesn’t mind in the least – the old guy kinda weirds him out if he’s honest. Han breaks out his stash of Sullustan gin, passing it around the campfire as the rest gather round. Rey refuses any, Ben quickly following suit.

Han leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Leia sits directly across from him, the glow of the fire dancing between them. Han watches her from over his cup of gin. She laughs easily with Ahsoka and Luke and Rey, not with Han though.

He’d thought maybe something would have changed after their… Confrontation? Connection? He isn’t sure what the right word would be for what had passed between them, but after their whatever-that-was on Hoth, he’d thought things might be different, but they weren’t, not really.

He’d held her and she’d cried and he’d led her back to her room. She’d stood in the doorway and he’d watched her, waiting for an invitation, but she hadn’t given one, the door closing between them. The next day she’d acted as if nothing had happened at all and Han had followed her lead, pestering her in the way he knows will make her look at him, even if it’s just to glare.

“So,” Han turns his head to face Chewie who sits beside him on the same log. “How long you think this _job_ ’s gonna last?”

Chewie only rumbles a low laugh and then grumbles something about how he’s not sure, but that they’ll have plenty of time to work on the _Falcon_ , which is true, but Han would still rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than this swamp, even Hoth. He swats at his neck as he feels one of the blood-sucking bugs of the planet land on his skin. He curses as he pulls his hand away to find it covered in blood and bug guts, wiping the vile mixture onto his pant leg.

Rey and Ben sit close, huddled together on the same log, the man’s arm draped over the girl. Han chuckles softly, watching them, lost in their own little world. They whisper surely disgustingly sweet and saccharine things to each other – _or, maybe not so sweet_ , Han thinks as he watches the girl’s face go bright red.

“I’m very tired.” Rey says, rising quickly, her face still as red as a muja fruit. “I’m going to head to bed. Goodnight!”

She looks down at Ben who also stands but doesn’t bother with the same transparent excuse. The two walk off together towards that big, black yacht of Ben’s.

“Rest safely you two!” Han calls out, completely unable to help himself. He barks out a dry laugh as the big guy stills, starts to turn around, but stops when his girl tugs on his sleeve, beckoning him to follow her – he complies, of course, the lovesick fool.

“D’ those two not just make you sick?” Han asks the rest of the group, taking a large swig of his drink.

“Uh… no?” Luke answers before taking a sip of his own drink.

“It’s wartime, and they’re in love. I think it’s sweet.” The princess responds, sounding defensive, as always.

Of course she does. Of course she thinks it’s _sweet_. Maybe it is sweet where she comes from, that world of royalty and luxury. Maybe there, love is real and lasts and doesn’t break you apart. Leia’ll probably marry a prince, one with soft, clean hands and formal education and no scars, inside or out. Maybe love doesn’t hurt people like Leia Organa.

“There ain’t nothin’ sweet about love, sister.” Han offers, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

The princess blusters nonsense sounds at that, her face screwing up into the familiar mixture of indignant rage and blatant offense. Han laughs.

“I wasn’t talking about that kind of love, princess, don’t blow a gasket.” He smiles when he sees that he’s only set her off further. There’s something about the way she glares at him from over the fire, the flames dancing and reflecting against warm brown irises, the heat in her eyes – he’s a glutton for it. “I was talking about the _real_ kind, it’s a monster.”

“No, it’s not!” She retorts and, not for the first time, Han wonders if she disagrees with him simply because she likes arguing with him as much as he does with her. “Love is beautiful.”

Han laughs again, a full belly-laugh, which, as with everything else he does, only offends her worshipfulness more.

“And what do you know about _love_ , your highness?” Han shakes his head. “What are you, eighteen?”

“I’m _nineteen_.” _Thank you very much_ , he practically hears her not add at the end. She smiles smugly as if one extra year makes all that much of a difference, though, for someone her age, it probably feels like it does.

Han suppresses a grimace. She seems… older than that, but the kid, who is apparently her twin brother, seems almost younger. Maybe Han just doesn’t know what nineteen-year-olds are like anymore. Did he ever, though? When he was their age he was still on the streets, a scrumrat running small jobs for the White Worms – not exactly your typical adolescence, he’s gathered.

“Well then,” He raises his cup of gin sarcastically. “You must be an expert.” He winks.

“I _have_ been in love before.” She says, lifting her chin, almost in challenge, her eyes narrowing.

“I’m sure you have, plenty of times, princess.” He offers a playful half-smile and he keeps his voice low, so low he’s not even sure she can hear him.

Luke looks between the two of them and rolls his eyes. Han had completely forgotten that the kid was there, that he and Leia weren’t alone.

“I’m going to bed.” Luke says, throwing his hands up into the air and walking away from the dying fire.

“Me too,” Ahsoka says, rising. “I don’t want any part of this.” She adds, shooting Han what is surely a very judgmental glare. The princess’ arms fold over her chest, her mouth downturned into a heavy frown.

Chewie claps Han on the back roughly and rumbles that he is also heading in for the night and reminds him to put out the fire before he heads in as well. Han nods in agreement.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now, your highness.” Han says, leaning forward towards the fire, towards Leia.

It’s difficult to tell in the warm, orange glow of the fire between them, but he can swear that he sees Leia’s cheeks flush pink. She confuses him, Princess Leia of Alderaan. He can’t tell if she’s attracted to him or if she hates his guts – though, it might actually be both. All Han knows is that he doesn’t hate the princess. Yes, she’s a little high-and-mighty sometimes, and stubborn as all hell, but he decidedly does not hate her.

“No,” She says, standing and wiping her hands on the front of her pants. She looks at the ground and not at him when she speaks. “It looks like it’s just you. I’m going to bed as well.” She stalks off towards the _Falcon_ but stops. “Goodnight, Han.” She adds very quietly without turning around.

If it were anyone else, some girl in a cantina Han would jump up, wrap his arms around her and whisper low in her ear that she wasn’t going anywhere. Then, he would hold her, wait for _her_ to kiss _him_ and then… but she’s not anyone else, she’s the princess, she’s _Leia_ , and the way he figures it, she’s as likely to smack him as she is to kiss him. She’s not just anyone, so he lets her go.

* * *

Vader looks out over the volcanic hellscape of Mustafar. He’d arrived hours ago, Vaneé greeting him at his shuttle, as always. Vader’s reasons for returning here are threefold, he needs to get away from Sidious, firstly, he has research to do and cannot conduct it anywhere near his master, not safely at least. Secondly, he desperately needs to heal in his bacta tank. Thirdly, he needs to strengthen his connection to the Dark Side in ways only this place will allow.

His gaze is trained firmly on one spot in the near distance, a rocky shore on a river of lava, the place where Kenobi nearly destroyed him, the place of his birth. Much like Tatooine, there are ghosts that live on this planet, and they are louder now than they have ever been before.

_Anakin, all I want is your love._

_You brought him here to kill me!_

_I have failed you, Anakin. I have failed you._

_It is the end for you, my master._

_It’s over Anakin, I have the high ground!_

_You underestimate my power!_

_You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you._

_I hate you!_

The voices of spirits long past ring through Vader’s head, tearing at the last shreds of his soul, ripping him limb from limb over and over again. He stares down at the place of his ultimate failure. Had he defeated Kenobi here, he could have saved Padmé, his children never would have been taken from him, he would have defeated Sidious and he and Padmé would have rule the galaxy as he had planned. The depths of that failure are revealed to him only now as he reflects on how he will return his children to him.

Vader breathes deeply as he reaches out to the Force, as he pulls it to him, wielding it and shaping it with _his_ influence, manipulating it to _his_ needs. He pushes outwards further and further, feeling, grabbing, seeking. Surely, the Force will give him some sign, some clue as to where his children might be. A direction or a feeling. If the girl had truly been in a different location, if she had been on the rebel’s new base, it is likely somewhere cold, but that hardly narrows down locations.

Vader snatches at the Force and compels it to give him something, anything, he – and there it is. A speck, but one so blindingly bright and familiar that Vader would know it anywhere, his son. There is no way to pinpoint an exact location, but if he can sense his son he must be nearby, in a system not too far from Mustafar’s. It is not much, but it is something.

 _Son_. Vader projects the word towards the faraway speck that is his son’s Force signature. He is not sure if his son can even hear him at this distance but then he feels a shift in his son’s presence, something a little frightened, a little surprised, and a little excited.

_Father._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎶 Reunited and it feels so good! 🎶 Ah, the whole gang's finally back together again! Isn't that just wonderful to see? Brings a tear to my eye, I'll tell you what. Ben, much like myself, is having none of Yoda's mystic shit. Haha! Also, more people know that he's a secret Skywalker, which can only be a good thing. He's definitely the 'dark horse' in the Skywalker family reveal games. I have to say, that bonfire scene has been one of my favorite to write so far! I absolutely love writing from Han's POV, he's such a fun character for me. 
> 
> Speaking of the bonfire scene, love is well and truly in the air on the galaxy's most romantic planet, Dagobah!🥴💖 Han and Leia get some of their specific flavor of flirt-fighting in and Ben and Rey decidedly peace out... by the way, if anyone is interested in a peek behind the privacy curtain of that particular fade to black, I've written a separate chapter which I also posted today, chapter 20.5, if you will, called [But Oh Those Dagobah Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800841). It is most definitely NOT rated T for teen, but check it out if you are so inclined! 😜😘
> 
> Vader's feeling a little angsty, isn't he? Luckily, he was able to get a call through to his son, so I'm sure he's feeling a lot better now! 
> 
> As always, thank you all so, so much for the bookmarks and kudos and comments. I absolutely adore hearing from all of you! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	21. Master and Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks around. Ahsoka is sitting across from Leia who has been struggling even more than Luke to find her center today, though it is her first time meditating ever. Ben and Yoda sit quietly on the rock nearby. Han and Chewie are still working on the Falcon. Only Rey seems to have noticed what had happened to Luke. She watches him with clear, worried eyes.
> 
> “Are you alright?”
> 
> “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.” Luke lies. He tries to laugh through his discomfort but fails. “Just tired.” He adds with a shrug. Rey nods but the worried look does not leave her eyes.
> 
> \---
> 
> Ben has a very fun few conversations with some Jedi Masters, Luke goes spelunking, and Vader catches up with his ex-bff.

Ben wakes to the sensation of something wriggling around in his arms. He huffs sleepily and pulls whatever it is closer to him, because it is actually rather warm, and tries to settle again but the something squeaks at him indignantly.

“Ben,” It sighs, and his still mostly unconscious mind notices that the _something_ sounds a lot like Rey. Its struggling intensifies. “I need to get up.” It whines.

“Huh?” Ben asks, his eyes blinking open languidly. The something, it would seem, _is_ , in fact, Rey. She fights to break the vice-like hold of his arms around her. He merely smiles into the crook of her neck and keeps his hold firm. “No, warm.” He protests, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Please, Ben,” She says with a laugh. She wraps her hands around his wrists and pulls against his grip, but the effort is half-hearted at best. “Training starts today and I need to use the ‘fresher and…”

“Training,” Ben scoffs, releasing Rey and rolling over onto his back, his arms splayed out across nearly the entire width of the bed.

Rey rises and stands up, looking down on him with a smirk.

“You should join us.” She offers.

“No thanks,” Ben huffs a dry laugh, one arm flying up to fall across his eyes.

“We could use your help.”

“I’m sure that _my_ help would not be welcome.” He says, shaking his head back and forth on the pillow. He removes his arm to find Rey leaning against the wall next to the door leading to the ship’s refresher, watching him with clear amusement.

“So, what? You’re just going to sulk around the ship all day?” She gestures around herself to the ship that surrounds them before crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’ve had less productive days,” Ben mutters. Rey laughs fully at that.

“I can’t believe you’d pass up the opportunity to ‘ _teach me the ways of the Force._ ’” She lowers her voice at the last part, a clear imitation of his own deep timbre. Ben sits up sharply.

“I thought you had to use the refresher?” He asks with a frown.

“I do.” She says crossing the threshold into the ship’s refresher, the door sliding shut behind her.

He does not sulk inside of the _Shadow_ all day, but neither does he join in on the training session led by Yoda and Ahsoka. Instead, he perches himself atop a rock on the edge of the clearing and watches. While Luke and Rey are clearly eager to begin, Ben’s mother seems just as enthused as he is to be there.

“I don’t even have one of those,” She waves a hand limply at the lightsaber hanging off of Luke’s belt. “I’m not sure why I need to participate.”

“That’s not entirely true!” Rey says, perking up. She runs into the _Falcon_ and returns shortly after holding the hilt of Obi Wan’s lightsaber. After nearly losing all of their sabers aboard the Death Star Ben had stored that particular weapon in one of the smuggling compartments aboard the ship. How Rey knew where it was, he can’t say.

“It was Obi Wan’s. Ben brought it with us.” Rey explains, beaming, as she thrusts the weapon into his mother’s open hands. Leia accepts it only _very_ reluctantly, frowning down at the sight of it.

“The most important tool in a Jedi’s training, a lightsaber is not.” Yoda says as Leia thrusts the hilt into the pocket of her vest. “But more respect, should you show it.” He chastises, the weapon floating out of her pocket and into Yoda’s hand at his command. He considers the weapon for a sad moment before handing it to Ahsoka and beginning the first lesson.

The three Jedi-in-training practice meditation for a long while. Both Luke and Leia struggle with this task, fidgeting and becoming easily distracted by the blood-sucking bugs that hover constantly. Yoda finds Ben’s mother tapping her fingers absentmindedly on her knee and whaps her hand with his gimer stick in admonition earning him one of Leia Organa’s famous heated glares.

With little else to do but watch three people sit quietly in a marshy field, Ben closes his eyes and crosses his legs underneath himself. It is amazingly easy to reach out to the Force here, he can see why Yoda chose this place for his self-imposed exile. The planet is brimming with life and the Force flows as thickly as the humidity in the air.

His hands resting on his knees, Ben focuses on his breathing, the deep, slow inhale and exhale of air. It’s relaxing, peaceful, even. He’s not found such easy relaxation in meditation in… well, perhaps the entirety of his life. His newfound tranquility is broken by the sound of a voice from beside him.

“Join the others, you will not?”

Ben opens one eye to peek at the old Jedi Master. Yoda sits on the rock beside him, though how he managed to get up here is lost on Ben, and he looks out onto the practicing students.

“No, I’ve had quite enough training in my life.” Ben grumbles.

“Ah, yes.” Yoda hums thoughtfully. “Always a limit to what we can learn, there is.”

Ben sighs heavily and rolls his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he realizes that Yoda has no plans to leave him alone any time soon.

“Maybe a limit to what I care to learn.” He mumbles under his breath. “And I’ve had quite enough of ‘masters’ as well, _Master_ Yoda.”

“Failed you, your master did.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Ben growls, though Yoda is unaffected. The old master simply taps his gimer stick on the rock lightly.

“Need to know you, I do not, to know this.” He says gravely. “Fell to the Dark Side, you did – fail you, your master did.”

“I thought the Jedi would see the failure as my own.” Ben scoffs.

“Failure of the student is the failure of the master. The master’s burden their student’s legacy is.”

An annoyed puff of air exits Ben’s nostrils and he grinds his teeth.

“Burden,” He laughs dryly, without humor. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Yoda turns his head to look up at Ben finally. His gold-green eyes seem to sparkle with intelligence. They belay just how old the former Grand Master is, ancient and wise, but tired as well, saddened by his own failures, perhaps. Ben knows when he is being assessed, he’s the son of Leia Organa after all and much of his youth was spent around any number of politicians. He grimaces at the judgement he did not ask for.

“Pulled by both, you are. The Light and the Dark.” Yoda offers after a time.

“Yeah,” Ben huffs sarcastically. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“But of the Dark, you are not.”

“I don’t know what I am.” Ben says darkly.

“We are what we hold on to.”

Ben barks out a dry, lung-rattling laugh at that, one so loud that it startles a nearby Luke out of his meditation. The young man glares at Ben before closing his eyes and returning his focus to the Force.

“You’re saying I should ‘let go’?”

“Should, should not – things I cannot tell you, these are.”

Ben groans as he runs one hand slowly down his face. It is far too early in the morning for confusing, backwards Jedi ‘wisdom’. He closes his eyes and straightens his back, determined to ignore Yoda should the old alien continue trying to speak with him. Luckily, the conversation seems to be over on both sides.

By the time midday hits and the sun is high in the sky, the ramshackle Jedi school has moved on from meditation. Ahsoka sits with Luke and Leia, guiding them through simple Force manipulation techniques. A few small twigs hover shakily in front of an over-confident Luke, while Leia struggles to even topple over a tower of precariously stacked stones. Rey, meanwhile, practices forms with the remote droid from the _Falcon_.

Ben is _bored_. So bored, in fact, that he has halfway entertained helping Han and Chewie with their repairs on the _Falcon_. It would be some kind of demented, personal torture, but it would be something to do at the very least. When Rey abandons the droid claiming it is ‘too easy’ Ben is only too happy to agree to spar with her.

“Whoa! What did you do to your saber?” Ahsoka calls from where she sits on the other side of the clearing. “That thing looks like it is going to explode!”

“It is perfectly safe, I assure you.” Ben says, and it is almost not a lie. His lightsaber has exploded on him a few times, though it hasn’t in years at this point, so he’s fairly sure he’s worked out most of the kinks. It’s still quite unstable, but he’s always sort of liked that about it.

Ben twirls the crackling red blade in front of him in a lazy figure eight and smiles as he rolls his neck. Rey comes at him with a heavy strike from the left which he blocks. The second their blades collide he is nearly overwhelmed with the distinct sensation of _Rey_ washing over him, a result of their bond opening in a way it only ever seems to do when they are fighting, whether that be with or against each other.

He sees every move the second she decides upon it, knows how to block it instinctually. The same must happen to her. It is a wonder how they are not stuck in a never-ending blade-lock, a constant stream of move and countermove flowing between them in an endless mental feedback loop. They trade blow after blow before finally breaking apart to catch their breath.

Slow clapping echoes around the clearing. Ben turns to find Ahsoka watching them, the look on her face unimpressed.

“That looked like fun,” She says with a smirk. “But next time, can you work on, you know, _actual_ forms?” She narrows her eyes and looks Ben up and down. “You do know the basic lightsaber forms, don’t you?”

“I do,” He snaps.

“Bound, you are.” Yoda’s voice calls out from behind Ben. Ben sighs, beyond exasperated with the little old Jedi Master at this point.

“What?” He asks, turning around, the word more sighed than spoken.

“Bound by the Force,” Yoda explains, he gestures his walking stick between Ben and Rey. “Bound to each other.

“Bound?” Rey repeats. “Do you mean our bond?”

“A normal bond, this is not.” Yoda explains looking between the two of them, his gaze appraising yet again. “No. Rare, this is, very rare, and powerful, yes, powerful also. Something unseen for generations. A dyad in the Force, you are, two that are one.”

“A dyad?” Ben asks, testing the word. He’s never heard or read about such a thing. Yoda hums in confirmation. “So, this is something natural – no one created it?” He asks, his heart swelling at the idea. He had _known_ Snoke was lying.

“Not created, no, never created, never destroyed – even in death.” Yoda hums. “Tried to create a dyad, the Sith did, the Sith do. Tried and failed.”

“Why would the Sith try to create a… dyad?” Rey asks.

“Very powerful,” Yoda says, his voice lowering, growing more serious. “Two that are one, one in spirit, one in the Force. A shared power, you have, and strong, it is, yes, very strong.”

Ben frowns. He thinks he should feel… relieved, perhaps? He’s known since the first time their bond fluttered to life in that interrogation room on Starkiller Base that he and Rey were inextricably linked. He’d sworn to himself after Crait that the next time he saw her he would make her see. He should feel vindicated. He’s not sure what he feels, but it isn’t that.

He’s known that he was bound to her from the day they met, that the woman who pushed back into his mind, who overpowered him and left him awestruck and bleeding in the snow was the only one for him – but does she feel the same way? Does she fee trapped or burdened in being bound to him forever? That question is far too frightening for him to try and answer.

“Has anyone seen Luke?” Ahsoka asks looking around.

Ben scans the clearing. Luke is nowhere to be found.

“He left a while ago.” Leia responds. “Does that mean _training_ is over?”

“No,” Ahsoka sighs, clearly annoyed. “What do you mean, he left? Where did he go?”

Suddenly, Ben can’t hear the others, their arguing becoming nothing more than a dull roar in his ears. He feels something pulling viciously at the darkest parts of his soul. He’s felt it before, he knows what it is – He knows where Luke is.

It does not take Ben any time at all to find the cave. Dripping with the Dark Side as it is, he’s felt its call, its pull since the moment he landed, but he’s been avoiding it, rather less than eager to see what it has to show him this time around.

The frigid evil of the place surrounds him fully as he crosses through the entrance and slowly makes his way inside. He tries to keep himself focused, calm, but worry gnaws at his gut. He tries to assure himself what whatever visions the cave choses to show him are just that, visions, and nothing more.

“Hey, kid.” A voice calls out behind him and Ben fights the instinct to turn around. He presses forward but the voice continues. “I said I’d see you around.”

“You’re not real.” Ben says, shaking his head. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and when he opens them Luke Skywalker is right in front of him, but not the version of Luke he is looking for. This Luke is older than Ben remembers, his hair more gray than anything, his beard longer than it’s ever been before – but it doesn’t matter what he looks like because he is just a vision.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.” Luke says with a laugh, the skin around his blue eyes crinkling. He scratches at his beard and looks around at the cave that surrounds them. “Haven’t been back here in years.” He muses. “I doubt I’ll see what I saw last time, but who knows?”

“Stop.” Ben commands. “You’re not real. Leave me alone. You –” He gestures to the older Luke wildly. “You haven’t even happened yet!”

“Neither have you, if I’ve got the year right.” Vision Luke says with a shrug. “And yet, here we are.”

With no argument to Luke’s latest point, Ben shoulders past the vision of his former master and continues into the cave only to have Luke appear in front of him a few meters away.

“Real, not real – whether I’m a ghost or a vision or your imagination running wild, does it really matter?” Luke asks. “You know why people see things in this cave.”

“Leave me alone,” Ben growls, his hands balled into tight fists. He does not reach for his saber. He’s already killed Luke Skywalker twice, once by his blade in this very cave and the last time indirectly, neither time did much for him, they didn’t make him feel any better. “I don’t want to talk to you.” He reaches up with one hand and grabs at his hair in frustration. He barks a harsh laugh at the ridiculousness of his situation. “I’m trying to _find_ you!”

“Hey, Ben!” Luke calls out from behind him. “When you find me, go easy on him. He’s just a kid and he hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Not yet!” Ben spits back. He’s glad that Luke is behind him now, that he can’t see his face.

“That’s fair.” Luke says, his voice sounding farther away now. Ben presses on. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you, Ben – I’m proud of you.” Ben whirls around at that, his rage mounting.

“It’s worth nothing!” He roars. It feels like a lie, almost, but he says it anyway. It doesn’t matter though – the vision of his uncle is gone.

* * *

It would certainly be an understatement to say that Luke had not slept well last night - he’s not even entirely sure he slept at all. He’d been lying in his bunk on the _Falcon_ , the others snoring peacefully around him when he’d heard it, clear as day.

 _Son_.

It had been his father’s voice, he’s sure of that. He’d gone rigid at the sound, his eyes darting around in the darkness, so sure that someone else had heard, but no, it had only been in his head. Had that really been his father? Is he near? Does he know where Luke is? The prospect is frightening, but Luke would be lying if he said that he wouldn’t speak to his father given the opportunity.

Luke responds with a tentative ‘ _Father’_ , just like during the battle of Yavin, but he hears no more for the rest of the night.

He wants to tell Ahsoka the moment she wakes up, but he hesitates. She seems so certain that the man Luke met, the one in the mask, is not his father any longer. Luke is… less sure. That man, whether he calls himself Anakin Skywalker or Darth Vader, had seemed to care for him, at least enough to save his life. He _wishes_ that he had someone to talk to about this, to talk through all of the confusing emotions he has about his father, but he simply doesn’t. Leia shuts down at any mention of their father, Ahsoka has gotten very sad and quiet and has quickly changed the subject the few times he’s brought it up with her. All in all, Luke feels completely and horribly alone.

He has a terrible time trying to focus during meditation that morning, and it certainly doesn’t help that he can hear Ben and Yoda’s conversation as though it were taking place right behind him. When Luke is finally able to find Focus and immerse himself in the living Force on Dagobah, he finds that it is nearly overwhelming. He’s only mediated on spaceships and Hoth thus far and the amount of life on Dagobah is astounding. He can feel it begin and end, the ebb and flow like a constant current, the pain and the joy and the warmth… and the cold.

There is something nearby, something cold and dark. It feels like death and decay and it’s _calling_ to him. The urge to go to that dark place pulls at his bones, at the sinew and the muscles that hold him together. It begs him to go. It has something for him, the thought flies just past his ears like a whispered promise. His consciousness floats there on the winds of the Force, his ever fiber shaking with anticipation. It’s a cave.

He pulls himself back from that place and it feels like he hasn’t had a full breath of air in well over a minute. His lungs burn as he sucks in hot oxygen, thick with humidity. A fine sheen of sweat has settled all over his body and he is trembling.

He looks around. Ahsoka is sitting across from Leia who has been struggling even more than Luke to find her center today, though it is her first time meditating ever. Ben and Yoda sit quietly on the rock nearby. Han and Chewie are still working on the _Falcon_. Only Rey seems to have noticed what had happened to Luke. She watches him with clear, worried eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.” Luke lies. He tries to laugh through his discomfort but fails. “Just tired.” He adds with a shrug. Rey nods but the worried look does not leave her eyes.

Had she felt that place too? Did it call to her as it had to him? He doesn’t think so. It had felt so personal, like whatever it had wanted to show him was for his eyes only.

Luke is relived when Ahsoka announces that meditation is over. He tries to pay attention to her words as she instructs him and Leia in easier methods of manipulating objects around them with the Force, but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult. He can still feel the whisper sliding past him, the pull of that cave from his mind wrapping around him like a cool blanket. With every second that passes he determines that he needs to go there, that he needs to see what that place has to show him - but how to get away?

He is provided with an opportunity when the others are distracted by Ben and Rey sparring. It is a bit of a spectacle, the blue and red sabers clashing quickly, their movements almost completely in synch, like a well-choreographed dance, but Luke allows himself to tear his attention away. He closes his eyes and reaches out with the Force. He finds that _thing_ , that pull, that dark thread which he knows will lead him to where he needs to go.

The cave really is not too far from the clearing the group has been calling ‘home’ since they arrived, or perhaps it only seems that way. Luke can’t be entirely sure, but he feels as though his perception of time and direction may have become distorted on the journey. In fact, he’s not sure he can find his way back once everything is said and done – but he can worry about that later. A voice inside of him screams that nothing in the world matters more than entering the cave.

Still, he hesitates at the mouth of it. A gaping maw covered with tangled, swirling branches and vines. His bones turn to ice at the close proximity, cold and fragile. He struggles to breathe against the thick, suffocating Darkness that surrounds this place, that sinks into the very fabric of reality here. Luke has never before sensed such powerful Dark, not in his father, not anywhere. It is like the place itself is made of pure Dark energy.

Luke enters the cave. Loose roots hang limply from the walls and low ceiling and brush the top of his head as he makes his way further inside. Something else is here, perhaps _someone_ else. Is it his father? Luke stills, looking around, eyes blown wide to help himself see in the dim lighting. He grasps for the lightsaber at his belt and ignites it, casting a soft, blue glow over his surroundings.

“Son,”

Luke whirls around. His father _is_ here, blue light reflecting off of the shiny, black material of his mask and helmet. Luke’s heart stutters in his chest, from fear? From excitement? He’s not sure. Probably both.

“Father,” Luke gasps, his breath stolen from his lungs. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” He’s not sure if he should take a step forward or a step back so he stays in place.

“Return with me, Luke.” His father says, not answering any of Luke’s questions, though that’s not entirely strange, he never has before. “I will complete your training. You do not yet understand your potential.”

“My potential?” Luke shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Together, we can destroy the Emperor, put an end to this violent conflict.”

Fear stabs at Luke’s stomach, his father had mentioned destroying the Emperor the last time that had spoken aboard the Death Star. Luke reaches out with the Force, but it’s strange, he can’t feel his father at all. He still knows so little about the Force and how it works though, perhaps the strong energy of the cave blots out his Father’s distinct presence. Still, something doesn’t feel right.

“No, I – I can’t leave my friends, I –” Luke claps one hand over his mouth. He should never have mentioned them! Are they in danger? Will his father harm them? Luke doesn’t know and he feels sick with worry.

“Luke,” His father extends one arm, the hand balled into a fist. “You do not yet…”

A flash of blue light cuts through his father who cries out once, his deep, mechanical voice echoing terribly off of the cavern’s walls, before falling to the ground in a heap. Luke takes a step backwards in horror, his chest tightening, his lightsaber falling to his side.

“Father!” He cries out.

Luke looks up, a couple of hot tears already streaming down his face, when he catches the eyes of his father’s killer – brown and familiar, but colder than he has ever seen them before. Leia’s face is set in a cold, hard grimace. She stares at the pile of black material that was their father, her nose turned upwards in disgust, her mouth downturned in a harsh frown.

“Leia – how – how could you?” Luke asks, his voice small and trembling. He backs up once more as Leia’s icy stare sets on him. She takes one step over their father’s body, approaching Luke, her lightsaber still held in her hands, the blade crossing over her chest defensively.

“He was not our father.” She explains calmly. “He was a monster. He had to be destroyed. It is our destiny.”

“No,” Luke cries as his back hits the wall of the cave. He claws at the slick surface with one hand. Leia tilts her head in confusion.

“Why do you think we’re here, Luke?” She asks, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. She looks at him like he is a puzzle. “We must confront him.” She says as though she has not just killed him.

“Our father, Leia – How – How –” But Luke can’t finish, he can’t speak anymore, he can hardly breathe. He closes his eyes, more tears falling in a steady stream.

Luke opens his eyes and Leia is gone and so is their father. Catching his breath, he stands up straighter, pushing himself away from the cave wall, he goes to inspect the place where his father’s body had just been.

“You’re his only hope, Luke.” Calls a voice from behind him – Luke’s own voice, he realizes with a start.

He turns quickly on his heels, nearly slipping on the wet cave floor. The Luke from his nightmare is there, the one dressed all in black. They stand as mirror images of each other. The black-clad Luke holds a lightsaber in his hand as well, but his blade is bright red, his eyes a glowing yellow. He smiles while Luke does not.

“You know what you have to do.” He says coolly. “Are you strong enough, farm boy?” He mocks, laughing, his mouth turning up in a caricature of a smile.

Luke closes his eyes, the one hand not grasping his lightsaber flying up to his hair, griping the blond locks tightly near the root and giving them a sharp tug. His mind is reeling, he’s so confused and sad and scared.

“Shut up!” He cries out, slashing his blade blindly at the other Luke, the Dark one, the one who wears his face but is _not_ him.

“Luke?” A voice calls out behind him, deep and familiar, but lost as he is Luke cannot place it.

Luke opens his eyes and the other him is gone, vanished like his father and sister, but he is not alone, he feels another presence in the cave behind him. He turns quickly. Ben is here. Luke extends his lightsaber towards the man.

“Go away!” He shouts. He’s not sure what’s real anymore. He just needs everyone to leave him alone. Ben scowls at the sight of the blade, the blue light casting dark shadows over his sharp features. “Please,” He begs pitifully, a ragged sob escaping his chest. “Just go away.”

Luke sinks to his knees, his legs too shaky to stand any longer. His lightsaber falls to the ground beside him and Luke’s hands fly up to his eyes, trying in vain to stop the tears flowing freely there. His back heaves with choked cries.

Ben approaches slowly, like Luke is a wounded animal.

“Whatever you saw,” He says slowly, the low tones of his voice reverberating around them. “It wasn’t real.”

“No,” Luke says sharply. “I know what I saw – there’s something here, I can feel it.”

“There’s nothing here.” Ben says. “Just you and me.”

“But – I – But I saw…”

“What ever you saw is only what you brought in with you.” Ben is right beside him now. The man pulls Luke up by one arm and Luke doesn’t fight him, just wipes the drying tears from his cheeks. “Only what you can’t let go of.” He adds lowly.

“What – What does that mean?”

“This cave is strong with the Dark Side.” Ben explains as he leads them back to the entrance, his hand never leaving Luke’s arm. “It called to you, right?” He asks, looking back at Luke. Luke nods slowly. “That’s what it does. It shows you your fears, premonitions sometimes.”

“Premonitions? Like visions of the future?” Luke asks, fresh fear clawing its way back up his throat. What he had seen – Leia and his father, that Dark version of himself, could they truly be visions of things to come? His stomach churns at the thought.

“That is what that word means, yes.” Ben says sharply.

They exit the cave together and Luke looks up towards the sky, the sun is already setting. How long had he been in there for?

“Is that what I saw? How do I know if what I saw is going to happen?” He asks, trying to keep the panic from his voice and failing.

“You can’t.” Ben responds with a damning shrug.

Luke isn’t sure how long or how far they walk through the swamp before Ben lets go of Luke’s arm, apparently trusting him to walk the rest of the way on his own. Luke looks up at the taller man – he looks tense, though what else is new, and sad. Dark circles hang heavy under his eyes.

“Did you see something?” Luke asks quietly. Ben does not look at him or acknowledge that he has spoken at all, so Luke elaborates. “Did you see a vision in the cave?”

Ben doesn’t speak for a long time and Luke starts to think that he won’t. He’s known Ben to do that before, just completely ignore questions he either doesn’t want to or seemingly doesn’t care enough to answer. Luke is surprised when he speaks.

“No, nothing.” Ben says, his tone almost soft – for Ben. “Just you.”

* * *

“I want them brought directly to me – _alive_ and unharmed.” Vader commands deeply as a personal assistant hands datachips to the gathered group of bounty hunters. The chips hold all of the names and known aliases of the group of rebels traveling with his children along with holo-profiles of his son, his daughter and the smuggler, Han Solo, a former Imperial soldier. Of course, there is no information on the two time travelers, but the information the datachips do contain will have to be sufficient.

“That means _no disintegrations_.” Vader adds, thrusting one finger violently at the bounty hunter clad in Mandalorian armor.

He turns and strides out of the room, his cape billowing behind him. He detests having to work with such scum, it is below him, but the simple, irritating truth is that he simply cannot be in more than one place at a time, and he does not trust any of the Imperial agents with this task. A bounty hunter’s allegiance is fluid, their master being the one with the most credits to offer, an Imperial spy’s loyalty defaults to the Emperor and Vader needs to tightly control the flow of information on this matter to his master. An Inquisitor would be ideal for a job of this magnitude, if only had had any of the Inquisitorius left at his disposal.

He stops in front of his bacta tank and the droids immediately begin removing pieces of his armor. They are rough with him, but they are programed to be. They remove the helmet from his head and instantly replace it with an oxygen mask and his body is lowered into the warm blue gel. The effect is immediately relieving, some of the constant pain he lives with dissipating.

Vader closes his eyes and begins to mediate. Perhaps he can reach his son again, convince the boy to join him. Vader still believes the Rebel base to be in a cold environment based on the girl’s attire, and knowing that his son is nearby certainly narrows down the possible locations to a much more manageable number, but if he can contact the boy again, perhaps he can get a more concrete answer. He grasps violently at the Force when a voice rips him from his trance.

“Anakin,” The voice, the voice of a dead man, the voice of _Kenobi_ forces Vader’s eyes open. “You look well.” Kenobi taunts.

This should be impossible, Vader knows. Kenobi is _dead_. Vader had felt him vanish from the fabric of the galaxy himself, still, there is no denying the gratingly familiar Force presence of his former master, and Vader has learned to stop questioning the seemingly impossible.

 _At least I am alive_. Vader responds in his mind. He cannot speak around the oxygen mask, and even if he could, his vocal cords were so irreparably damaged after his duel with that _traitor_ , without his vocoder, his voice would be nothing more than a whisper at the loudest. Kenobi has the audacity to chuckle at Vader’s words.

“I suppose that depends on your point of view.”

 _What ‘point of view’?_ Vader questions angrily. _I am alive and you are dead. There is no more to it than that._

“Again, with the absolutes,” Kenobi shakes his head. “Perhaps there is more to life than being _alive_?”

 _Have you nothing better to do than haunt me?_ Vader asks, growing tired of Kenobi’s brand of _wisdom_.

“I’ve been watching you and, I must say, I am surprised.” Kenobi ignores Vader’s question and tucks his hands into the sleeves of his brown robe. It is difficult to tell through the blue-tinted gel of the bacta, but it almost seems that the man is glowing blue around the edges. “I never imagined the man I left on Mustafar could care for his children, but perhaps I should have. You always held such a great capacity for caring. I suppose I thought you too far gone.”

Sith do not care, they do not have compassion. Vader would never see his children harmed, of course, but though he had once had the ability to love, to care, that has long since been lost to him. The heart that beats in his chest is nothing more than a muscle powered by the living tomb of his suit. Whatever Kenobi _thinks_ he sees, it is nothing more than the irrational sentimentality of a doddering old fool.

 _The man you left to burn alive, the man whose children you stole?_ Vader growls.

“Yes,” Kenobi says, having the gall to seem almost regretful. “The more merciful thing would have been to kill you, but I wasn’t strong enough. I apologize for that.”

 _You apologize for not killing me?_ Vader is nearly surprised that the old, _dead_ Jedi would be so blatant in his cruelty – nearly.

“There are many things I should apologize for.” Kenobi says and it sounds like a confession. “I wasn’t the master you needed, clearly, or the friend.”

 _Friends,_ Vader scoffs. _Is that what we were?_

“I would like to think so.” Kenobi says sadly. “I meant what I said. I did love you, Anakin. You were my brother. It pains me to see you like this.”

 _You did this to me!_ Vader rages, his blood boiling in his veins.

“I didn’t mean your physical form.” Kenboi responds softly, sadly.

_Will you leave me in peace?_

“I thought peace was a lie?” Kenobi remarks coolly.

 _Leave!_ Vader’s voice reverberates around in his mind, his anger shaking the transparisteel of the bacta tank, a pipe bursts nearby.

Kenobi vanishes into thin air. Vader is finally alone, the chamber around him quiet but for the hissing of steam escaping the burst pipe nearby. Vader finds no peace in his requested solitude as it is, after all, a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, we do love a chapter with all of the Skywalker boys, don't we? They just bring a certain drama, a flair specific to them, don't they? The flavor! Haha! 👩🍳👌
> 
> Ben and Yoda's conversations definitely took the longest to write in this chapter. Let me tell you something about Yoda, my friends, he is such a _pain _to write for - because he doesn't just speak all crazy and backwards, no, he has a very distinct way of speaking and writing dialogue for him is just 😖😤 - apologies, rant over.__
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this one though! As soon as I knew we were going to Dagobah I knew we had to get some sweet, sweet dark cave action going on! Originally, the focus was going to be more on Ben and _this _was going to be his turning back to the Light moment, but once that came about more naturally earlier I switched the focus to Luke - Here I go, getting all 'behind the music' again. I'm happy with Luke's scene though, he's is such a different place, both knowledge-wise and emotionally than he was in ESB, so I knew the scene had to be different even if it still revolved around his father.__
> 
> __Also, I loved writing Obi Wan just showing up and ruining Vader's bath time. Obi Wan's like "Bro, you look awful, like, seriously, you look like shit." and Vader's like "Omg, just get out you ghost."_ _
> 
> __Thank you all so much, as always for the bookmarks and kudos and comments. I always love hearing what you all are thinking, so thank you for sharing with me! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕_ _


	22. Lessons in the Dark Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ease is one of the major draws to the Dark Side.” He admits with an awkward half-shrug.
> 
> “Can you stop teaching them how to use the Dark Side, _Ben_?” Ahsoka calls out from somewhere behind him. Ben whips his head around to glare at her.
> 
> “I am not teaching them how to use it. I am simply explaining the topic at hand.” He grounds out, holding himself back from snapping. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Vader decides that it's big brain time (too bad he's still Anakin under all that suit 🤷♀️🥴), Leia and Han chat about scoundrels and how _infuriating_ they can be, and Ben takes up a few new padawans.

Vader is surrounded by holocrons, datapads, and holobooks, even a few ancient paper-and-ink texts litter the floor of his chambers. It is one of those old, nearly crumbling, books that hovers in front of him now, suspended by the Force. The pages turn lazily as he quickly scans each one.

So far, his research has turned up nothing even remotely useful. There is plenty written on Force bonds in both Jedi and Sith lore, but nothing he has read speaks of a bond so powerful as the one his grandson and that girl seem to share. Their minds connected seamlessly, their power completely shared – it seems to be a completely unique occurrence, which is decidedly _not_ helpful.

There is still much he has left to go through, of course, and he will not rest until he understands what it is he is up against. They will not catch him by surprise the next time he faces them, and he is sure that there _will_ be a next time. So long as his grandson and the girl insist on keeping Vader’s children from him there will be no way around that. If only he could convince them to work _with_ him, though they seem far past that at this point.

Vader flicks his finger to turn the page when something of interest catches his eye – not something to do with Force bonds, no, a prophecy.

_When the Force itself sickens, the past and future must split and combine._

The past and future, splitting and combining. It is too close to the current situation he finds himself so unwillingly a part of to be considered a coincidence. Could it be, then, that they did not bring themselves to this time, but the Force did? That seems as likely as any other explanation. Has the Force been ‘sickened’ in this time or theirs? What does the Force ‘sickening’ even mean? The text he is currently reading from is an old Jedi one, so surely, they are referring to corruption through the Dark Side. Are his grandson and the girl here to oppose the Sith? That is concerning, but no worse than what he has already suspected.

What does it mean by the past and future splitting and combining? Is that simply a reference to time travel? Vader’s grandson and the girl are in the past, from their own perspective, and they are from the future from the perspective of the present. This prophecy will be something to keep in mind and ruminate on further, but he cannot pay much mind to it now.

While not immediately useful, the prophecy does give Vader an idea. Perhaps, Vader has been looking in the wrong places for information. He’s been looking for information to do with Force bonds, but what his grandson and the girl share seems to go beyond a simple bond – perhaps it is called something else, and perhaps, if what they share is rare enough, it could be referred to in a prophecy? Both the Sith and the Jedi have loads of prophecies, most of which are meaningless, easily mis-translatable drabble, but some…

The Jedi text slams shut and flies to the top of a nearby pile. Vader brings up another text, this one Sith and incredibly old. He flits through the yellowed pages quickly, his eyes scanning, searching for something, _anything_.

_In a time of peace, a dyad in the Force will rise. Two that are One._

A _dyad_ in the Force. Vader does not believe he has either read or heard such a term before – but, no, he realizes, he _has._ The text flies away from him and a datapad floats into his waiting hands. He pulls up the text he’s looking for and searches the term – one result is found. A newer Jedi text revolving around the history of the Sith. A small excerpt is highlighted.

_‘Only two there shall be. No more, no less. One to embody the power and one to crave it.’ Often referred to as the ‘Rule of Two’, the most common interpretation of this passage is the master and apprentice relationship the Sith carry out traditionally. A less common interpretation is in the myth of the **dyad,** a powerful bond between two individuals, the Force inextricably linking them in a way unseen in more common master-apprentice bonds. ‘Two in body, One in the Force’ (Diavand 394). Some scholars believe the Sith tried to create such a bond but, ultimately failed. It is unclear if such a thing truly exists, there has been no concrete evidence in…_

The rest of the passage is useless, but it does establish the _dyad_ as a bond, one that is both incredibly powerful and rare. Vader pulls up the index of the text and finds that the author cites two other histories in their passage on the dyad, two histories that Vader does not have in his collection. He’ll need to scan the Imperial archives, if those texts were not destroyed in the purge, he’ll need to read them. If his grandson and that girl are truly a dyad in the Force, Vader wants to learn all he can on the subject.

Vader is pulling up the screen for a data transfer request when a buzzing sound rings through his chambers. At first, Vader is unsure what the sound is, reaching out with the Force, his head on a swivel to scan the room. He’s been on edge since Kenobi’s first _visit._ He sees the horrible apparition everywhere now, out of the corners of his vision, silent, watching, judging.

He rises when he realizes that the sound is simply indicating that someone is at his door, requesting his presence. With palpable irritation, Vader sets the data pad down on his desk and crosses the room, throwing the door open violently with the Force.

“What is it?” He grounds out. He has been very specific about what type of information he should be disturbed for. Either this officer is bringing him good news or their own swift demise. The way they tremble in his door frame has him thinking it is the latter. “Go on!” He commands when they do not answer immediately. Perhaps he will bring their end either way, simply for wasting his time with such foolishness.

“Lord Vader,” They begin, respectfully, if a bit timidly. “There has been confirmation of Rebel sightings in the Anoat sector.”

Finally, something helpful, something _concrete_. No perhaps-es, no maybes – just definite answers. The Anoat sector. It is close, very close. It narrows his search down considerably. They will need to act quickly, of course, if the Rebels suspect that the Empire is drawing in on them, they will flee as they had last time.

“Prepare my shuttle.” Vader says. He will want to arrive before anyone else. If it turns out his children are on the base, the siege will have to go very differently than it would otherwise.

The officer bows shallowly before turning on their heel and striding off down the dimly lit halls of Vader’s fortress. Vader’s son is nearby, he knows this with absolute and total certainty, whether he is with the Rebels in the Anoat sector or not, only time will tell. If his children are there, Vader will find them.

* * *

Leia escapes from _Force lessons_ when the group breaks for their mid-day meal. She is hungry, but she’s not sure how much more of that fake food she can stomach. Han and Chewie are working on the exterior of the _Falcon_ , meaning that there should be no one inside of the ship, which suits her needs perfectly. She sneaks up the entry ramp when no one is looking and heads directly for the cockpit.

She hasn’t heard from the Alliance in days, has had no news since they left the base on Hoth and it is _killing_ her. What if something big is happening? What if there’s someway she can help and, instead, she’s just rotting away, learning how to float rocks and twigs on this blasted swamp planet? She just needs to quickly check in with them, make sure everything is fine.

She picks up the transceiver for the ship’s long-range communicator and wonders if she should comm her father directly or just try for the Alliance comm stations. She is still… frustrated with her father – frustrated but not angry. She had been furious with him the night he revealed the truth of her birth parents _and_ that he would be sending her away. She’d laid in bed that night and steamed with how almost uncontrollably _angry_ she was.

It was only once she remembered how very close she’d come to losing her father, to losing _everything_ , to the Death Star that her rage cooled a bit. Where would she be if the Empire had managed to use that awful weapon on Alderaan? Adrift, surely, untethered by home or family. She’d still have the Alliance, of course, but would that be enough? She cannot fathom what losing her home, her people, her family, would do to her, despite how incredibly close she’d come to that being her reality. She doesn’t like to think on it much still.

Leia decides on contacting the base directly. She’s not sure how happy her father would be with her trying to make contact when she’s supposed to be in hiding – but establishing a properly scrambled comm line can’t hurt anything, she’s sure. She leans down to input the code to contact the base. She presses a button and… nothing happens, the screen is completely blank. She looks around at the console, other lights blink happily indicating that whatever issue she is experiencing is to do with the long-range communicator alone. She sighs, frustrated.

“What’re you doing, princess?”

Leia flies around at the gratingly familiar sound of Han’s voice, her heart skipping a beat in pure surprise, having not heard him sneak up on her. The communicator’s receiver is held in a tight fist behind her back but she quickly brings it around in front of her because she is not doing anything _wrong_ by trying to contact the Alliance and she resents Han for making her feel like she is, even if he hasn’t said as much.

He watches her with amused curiosity, wiping the oil from his hands with a soiled cloth. His eyes slowly trail from her face down to the communicator in her hand. One corner of his mouth quirks up that way that always gets her blood boiling and her cheeks flushing because she _knows_ that he is making fun of her when he smirks like that.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asks, one eyebrow raising.

“Your ship,” She huffs, shaking the broken transceiver in her hand. “It’s broken.”

“It’s not,” Han says shouldering past her. He turns one knob on the communications panel clockwise all the way around and then counterclockwise very slowly. He slaps the top of the console twice in quick succession and the screen on the front of it flickers to life. Han turns around, raising his eyebrows quickly and flashing Leia a cocky smile. “See, not broken. Just finicky.”

“Well,” Leia says, transceiver still in hand. She holds back her quip about him buying himself a proper ship one day because she doesn’t actually care what he does _one day_. Once she’s allowed to leave this swamp planet she’s sure she’ll never see him again. “I was going to place a comm.” She looks at him pointedly.

Leia expects him to leave at that, though why she does she can hardly say. When has she ever known Han Solo to do the proper, polite thing when given the opportunity? Han, surely knowing that she wishes to place her comm in private, sits down in his pilot’s seat, twirling it around to face her. He rests his mud-caked boots on the ship’s main console and throws his hands behind his head, a relaxed smile on his lips.

“Well, don’t stop on my account, Princess.”

Leia grinds her teeth and purses her lips, glowering at him with all of the heat she can muster. She doesn’t know how he gets under her skin so easily, why she lets him. He’s just so… aggravating!

“I was actually hoping to do so in private, so if you don’t mind…”

“Oh,” Han barks out a laugh. “But I do mind.” There’s a quick flash of something like irritation in his eyes. “You see, your Highness, despite what you all seem to think, this is _my_ ship.” He juts one thumb into his chest. “So, be my guest, comm whoever you like, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“ _You_ ,” Leia grits through her teeth. “You – You –”

“I?” Han smirks and it has Leia seeing flames.

“You are absolutely _infuriating_!”

“Am I?” Han asks, leaning forward in his chair, his forearms coming to rest on his knees, his fingers folding together loosely between them. Leia’s rage subsides slightly. Her skin prickles. She finds herself swallowing involuntarily at the way he looks at her. The look in his eyes, it’s dark, almost dangerous, she thinks. Her stomach twists tightly as she realizes that she might like it a little bit.

“Yes,” Leia says, though she struggles to keep her voice firm.

“You wanna know what I think, Princess?” He stands and looks down at her, waiting for an answer. Leia can feel her heart begin to beat a little faster inside of her chest.

“Stop calling me that.” Leia says, trying to take back control of the situation. She takes a step back to place a bit more space between herself and Han. “You know my name.”

“Alright.” He says taking a step towards her. Leia takes another step back and her heart is positively racing. “You wanna know what I think, Leia?”

Han takes yet another step closer to her but Leia doesn’t step back this time, not because she can’t, but because she doesn’t want to. She looks up at him and her tongue darts out to wet her dry lips. She watches how Han’s eyes trace the movement.

She could leave. He’s not blocking her exit and she doesn’t think he’d stop her if she tried, but she doesn’t try anyway.

“What?” She finally manages to ask. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think you find me nearly as infuriating as you say you do.” He says; his voice a low, rumbled whisper.

“You _are_ infuriating.” She protests, the last sliver of her pride speaking for her. Her face is on fire, but she’s not angry anymore, not at all. Her hands are trembling. It is impossible at this distance not to notice how handsome Han is, the strong line of his jaw, his crooked nose, his hazel eyes. Leia can hear her pulse in her ears, can feel it drumming through her whole body. “You’re rude and pig-headed and –”

“A _scoundrel_?” He asks slowly, drawing out the word, savoring it. His teeth flash behind his lips and Leia shivers despite herself. He says the word as though he likes it.

“Y-yes.”

“Maybe,” He says with a smirk. “But I think you like that about me, Leia.” He takes another step towards her and there is almost no room between them now. Leia has to crane her neck to look up at him. He takes one of her hands in both of his own, a calloused thumb running along her knuckles. “I think you might like fighting with me. I think you might like _me_ more than you let on.”

Leia says nothing, because all she can do is breathe. Her mouth feels dry, but maybe that’s because it seems to be hanging open for whatever reason. Her eyes dart down to Han’s lips and she finds that she cannot tear them away.

“Well, that’s what I think.” He says and his voice is so low and quiet Leia almost has to lean in just to hear him. _That’s_ why she’s leaning in. _“_ What do you think… _Leia_?” He asks. He’s smirking again but Leia doesn’t think that he’s making fun of her anymore.

“I – I,” She stutters but her breath hitches in her throat when she notices that Han is leaning down towards her, when she notices that she is pressing up on her toes to meet him.

She kisses him and it shocks her how much she’s wanted to. It shocks her even more when she realizes for how _long_ she’s wanted to. Han fills her senses. He smells like fuel and coolant and some spicy aftershave she can’t name. She drops the transceiver on the ground and grasps at the front of Han’s shirt, pulling him down, pulling him closer to her. One of his hands comes up to cup her face, his fingers playing at her braids, his thumb brushing her cheek.

He pulls her closer and deepens the kiss and Leia feels completely weightless, like the only thing tethering her to the planet is Han. His hands are the only thing keeping her from flying away. She wants him to warp his arms around her like he did on Hoth and fasten her to this time and place forever.

Leia is so overwhelmed by all of the _Han_ surrounding her she doesn’t hear the person calling her name from the hall.

“Leia, Threepio said that you were –” A deep voice begins, drawing closer. “Oh, you’ve got to be f…”

Leia breaks away from Han, throwing herself backwards into one of the _Falcon_ ’s consoles, her hands grasping at the buttons and knobs behind her, searching desperately for an anchor because she still feels like she’s floating a little bit. She struggles to catch her breath, to slow the traitorous beating of her heart.

She looks up at the intruder. Ben’s face is as red as Leia’s feels, the tips of his ears burning beneath his long, dark hair. His face is turned deliberately away from Leia and Han and his eyes are screwed shut. Ben runs one hand through his hair nervously and out of the corner of her eye she can see Han doing the same thing, though he looks nothing short of annoyed at their interruption.

Leia is actually glad for it. The tight tingling in her skin has melted away to fear and a desperation to leave this situation. Her heart is absolutely pounding in her chest. Leia hadn’t lied to Han when she told him that she’d been in love before, though she had been exaggerating when she’d said it was beautiful. Her only foray into the subject had ended in betrayal and loss, and she doesn’t see how anything with Han could end any better.

“Ahsoka sent me to find you,” Ben says tightly. “She asked that I help you with your… I was going to… You can…” His eyes flit to hers before shooting to the floor. “I’ll – I’ll just meet you outside.” He turns quickly and begins striding away.

“No, I’m coming!” Leia calls after him, eager for the escape. She’s not sure what just happened and is not looking to explore it now. Han grabs her wrist as she moves to follow Ben, his grip firm but not too tight. She looks back at him, his eyes holding none of the mischievous light they normally do and that only frightens her further.

“Leia,” He says and it almost sounds like he’s pleading.

“I’m – I’ve got to go.” She says pulling her arm from his grasp and even though her back is turned to him, she knows that he is frowning as she leaves.

* * *

Ben sits in a cross-legged position in front of his mother and uncle. He, the ‘Jedi Killer’ in another life, is teaching a lesson in the Force to both the future ‘Last Jedi’ and the one-day leader of a group whose sole purpose is opposing his stratocracy, two people he has sworn to destroy several times – the irony is not lost on him. He shifts awkwardly under the attention of their gazes. It is rather unnerving.

He's still slightly surprised that Ahsoka asked for his help, though he thinks that Rey might have had something to do with that development. The former Jedi padawan has grown rather fond of the former scavenger. She leads her through a few basic forms nearby, probably intent on keeping a close eye on Ben to ensure that he doesn’t corrupt the Skywalkers with his _Dark Side influence_.

“So,” He begins awkwardly. His experience in instructing others in the ways of the Force is rather minimal, limited to leading a few groups of younger students at Luke’s temple years ago. “There are two main ways of connecting with the Force. The proper Jedi way – letting it flow through you, becoming a vessel for it – and the… rather _less_ Jedi approved way of grabbing at it, pulling it to you.”

“Why do the Jedi disapprove of that?” Leia asks, one eyebrow quirking upwards. Ben blinks a few times before responding, still feeling a little disturbed by what he had interrupted earlier. He’d prefer to forget about it entirely, if possible. Unfortunately, he fears that the image may be forever burned into his retina.

“That method is typically preferred by those who call on the Dark Side of the Force.” He explains in a way he hopes is neutral. He can feel Ahsoka watching him carefully and he frowns.

“It seems a lot easier.” His mother muses, clearly frustrated with her lack of progress in previous lessons.

That was one of the reasons Ahsoka had asked for his help and likely the only reason Yoda had agreed to it. Leia was the first person Ben ever learned anything about the Force from. She had been the one to help him through his earliest rages and spells, the one who talked him through the confusing things happening to him. His most basic understandings of it come from _her_ , not Luke, so if anyone can help her learn it herself, it would be him.

“Ease is one of the major draws to the Dark Side.” He admits with an awkward half-shrug.

“Can you stop teaching them how to use the Dark Side, _Ben_?” Ahsoka calls out from somewhere behind him. Ben whips his head around to glare at her.

“I am not teaching them how to use it. I am simply explaining the topic at hand.” He grounds out, holding himself back from snapping.

“Is the Dark Side stronger?” Luke asks warily.

“I don’t know.” Ben answers truthfully, his shoulders shrugging.

Weeks ago – _Days_ ago, his answer to that question would have been an easy yes, but now he’s not quite as sure. Quicker? Easier? Yes, certainly. It has always been simpler for him to draw on the anger and rage always boiling just under the surface of his skin than to suppress it in an attempt to find peace or serenity, but he feels no weaker as the Darkness leeches from his body more and more by the day.

 _Darkness rises and the Light to meet it_.

Perhaps one isn’t innately stronger than the other. Maybe each side of the Force is only as strong as it’s user. Perhaps it is impossible for one to surpass the other. Maybe that’s balance. Ben doesn’t know.

“ _Ben_!” Ahsoka hisses.

“What?” He does snap this time, whirling around to meet her angry stare with one of his own. “I _don’t_ know and I’m not going to lie to them – even if that is what the _Jedi_ would have me do.”

Ahsoka closes her eyes and sighs, but some of the fire seems to leave her. When she looks at him again, he feels like he sees understanding under the thin veil of aggravation. She nods tersely.

“Just – can we move on from the Dark Side? That might be a topic for another day.”

Ben doesn’t bristle at her words as he once might have done. It doesn’t feel like she’s telling him what to do, it feels like, maybe, they are just having a conversation. It’s hard to tell, though, he hasn’t done anything like that with anyone but Rey for a very long time.

“I do have a point,” He explains as calmly as he possibly can. “I will get to it, can you just let me…”

Ahsoka nods and turns her attention back to Rey who has been waiting patiently, a fond little smile spreading on her face. Ben turns back to Luke and Leia to help quell the slightly uncomfortable warmth bubbling in his chest. He sighs.

“The issue with grabbing at the Force, with pulling it to you, is that it can be actually harder to command like that, especially if you are untrained. You can easily lose control, which is sometimes what you want to happen…” Ben is interrupted by an aggressively loud cough from behind him. “ _Not_ what any of us want, obviously.” He adds, rolling his eyes. “But if you allow the Force to come to you, _you_ control the flow.”

“Now, close your eyes.”

Leia sighs in frustration but both she and Luke comply.

“Open yourself up.” Ben says, keeping his eyes open. “Let the Force fill you.” He watches his mother’s brows furrow in concentration. “It can be harder to do when you are feeling a lot of very strong emotions, but it isn’t something you have to _try_ for, just let go.” Leia opens one eye too look at him curiously, but then closes it and returns to her meditative stance.

“How do I – I don’t know how to open up, how to feel it.” Leia admits quietly after some time.

He can feel his mother’s frustration, the way it mounts and simmers over into actual anger. There’s so much of it there, the anger, it is actually shocking. He’s always known his mother to have a temper, her and Han both were notorious for their short fuses so it’s no wonder where his own temperament originates, but he’s never felt it so wild and untamed. She reminds him of… _himself_.

“The Force is all around you, it’s part of you.” _It’s nothing to be frightened of, Ben_. He can hear his mother add in a past that hasn’t happened yet, one that, possibly, may never happen. “It is in everything. I’m sure you’ve felt it before, but it might not be something you recognize innately. I know you’re frustrated but the more you focus on that the harder of a time you are going to have, I promise…”

“You need to reach out with your _emotions_.” Luke interrupts with what he surely believes to be helpful advice.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t always work for everyone.” Ben says and Luke opens his eyes in confusion. “Some people have stronger emotions than others and reaching out with _those_ could be… less than conductive to what we are trying to accomplish.”

“Leia,” Ben begins, scooting slightly so that he faces his mother directly. “I want you to clear everything from you mind – _everything_ but your breathing and my voice, alright?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond simply watches her breathe in and out slowly. “Think of the Force as a river. It is always flowing around you. You are a dam, you choose how widely you open yourself up to it, you control the flow. Just breathe and try to find it.” He says, his voice soft.

Leia’s brows relax and her shoulders lose some of the tension they have gathered over the past few days. She breathes slowly and Ben adjusts his own breathing to match hers. He considers brushing up against her presence in an attempt to help her locate that part of herself, but he wants to see if she can do it on her own. He watches, and, for a moment, she is not his mother, just a young woman learning how to use the Force.

Time passes in near silence, the only sounds that ring through the clearing are the hissing and buzzing of Ahsoka and Rey’s lightsabers and the calls and cries of the planet’s wildlife. Ben opens his mouth to say something more when a wave of warmth and familiarity washes over him. Suddenly he is a boy and Leia Organa is very much his mother, her Force signature wraps around him like an embrace. He quickly throws up his mental shields while blinking tears from his eyes.

Leia’s eyes stay closed but he sees her smile, knowing what she’s accomplished. Ben feels that warmth bubbling in his chest again, but it doesn’t unsettle him as it had earlier. He thinks that it might feel something like pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think the Jedi would use MLA formatting to cite their sources? This is a thought that struck me at 3 AM on Saturday morning. Additionally, it has been so many years since I've written a formal essay that I did not remember, how, exactly, to cite a source and had to look it up.
> 
> Vader is basically a self-insert for me in this chapter, sitting on my bed, dozens of tabs open on my laptop, the art book for TROS open on my comforter, frantically searching for information on a vague Sith Eternal prophecy about a dyad. I did not find one, so, you will see that I made it up on my own. What I did _not_ make up is the prophecy about the past and future 'splitting and combining' - wow, ya'll, that one kinda just fell into my lap! Thanks, Claudia Gray!
> 
> One of my very favorite scenes in all of Star Wars is the 'scoundrel' scene in ESB - it's just so 🥵... I knew I had to (try to) capture the essence of that without just directly stealing it word-for-word - no, I save that for flashback scenes! I hope that I was able to do it justice! Also, first Han and Leia kiss on the books and it's only chapter... 22! Who knew I could write a slow burn?
> 
> Originally, Ben's POV scene was going to be about something totally different (we'll see it soon, actually). That part was going to start with a _brief_ Force lesson before transitioning to the meat of the scene, but that lesson really got away from me! What can I say? I guess I just had too much fun pretending like I know how the Force works!
> 
> I had a really good time writing this chapter, even if it was a bit of a pain (I ended up rearranging it super last minute) - I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks so much to everyone for the kudos and bookmarks and for all of the wonderful and kind comments you leave, I love hearing what you all think! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕
> 
> Also! I've got a Tumblr now. I still don't understand it, but if you'd like to check it out, here's the link! 
> 
> Tumblr: [Aaveena](https://aaveena.tumblr.com/)


	23. Invisible String

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I just – I wish Ahsoka or Yoda would talk with me… I’m – I’m just really confused.” He shakes his head, looking down into the food in his lap, his blond hair flowing with the movement. 
> 
> “I wish there was some way I could help you.” She offers solemnly. Luke looks up, a spark of hope in his eyes.
> 
> “I – Maybe you can.” He starts softly. “I overheard Yoda speaking with Ben the other day, he said that Ben fell to the Dark Side, is that true?”
> 
> \---
> 
> Ahsoka and Ben relax in the teacher's lounge, Rey and Luke chat about their Dark Side protectors, and Ben and Rey really look into this dang connection of theirs.

Ahsoka sits in the small kitchenette of the _Shadow_ , somewhere she’s spent nearly every morning since learning that it’s equipped with a caf machine. It’s become a bizarrely pleasant little ritual, her morning cafs with Ben. They don’t speak much, which seems to suit the both of them fine, just relax and prepare for that day’s lessons.

Once, a few days ago now, back when the silence between them had been far less peaceful, he’d turned to her, out of the blue, and said, “I know I shouldn’t be telling you anything about the future, but they really don’t make military ration caf like they used to – it’s crap in my time.”

She’d been dumbstruck for a moment by the lighthearted nature of his comment – it had been almost humorous, what he’d said, the ghost of a joke, yet she’d been unable to contain her laughter. It escaped her with such a force that her lungs burned and her ribs ached. She was glad he hadn’t spoken to her while she was mid-sip, otherwise she’s sure she would have shot hot caf out of her nose.

“I’ll enjoy it while I can, then.” She’d said, nearly out of breath after regaining her composure. Things have been far less tense between them since then.

Ben has taken on a larger role in the education of Rey, Leia, and Luke and Ahsoka has been happily surprised by what a help he has been. He’s not always the most _patient_ teacher, he’s still his seemingly normal, brooding self, but he is knowledgeable, and she finds his insights on the Force interesting, even if she doesn’t always agree with them.

Yoda is outside with Rey and the Skywalker twins leading them through morning meditation. Ahsoka will be taking over in a bit to go over a few basic lightsaber forms - something she knows Luke to be very excited about. She thinks that he’ll be decidedly less excited when she reveals that they’ll be sparring with sticks she’s salvaged from the surrounding marshy forest, staves not really being an option currently. She’s not sure what else he expects. Two brand new Force users sparring with actual lightsabers sounds like a recipe for lost limbs. Something she’d actually like to avoid, if possible.

Still, it does something to her heart to see Luke holding his father’s lightsaber, and that _something_ is only exacerbated by how much he actually looks like Anakin. More than once she’s slipped up and called him ‘Skyguy’. How she’d so easily fallen back into that old habit she can’t say, but the nickname makes Luke smile even if it nearly cracks her chest apart every time it crosses her lips. She hasn’t told him that it had once belonged to his father, though she probably should, he would probably like to hear that.

Ahsoka rips her thoughts from Luke and his father and takes some time to study the man in front of her – another Skywalker. He looks nothing like Anakin, physically at least. His eyes though, even if they are dark brown where Anakin’s had been blue, hold the same intensity she’d noticed in her master’s darker moments, his moments of anger or despair.

It makes her wonder why she had not been in his life more, why she hadn’t been around to warn his parents and Luke about that intensity, to help them see the signs of someone in danger of falling down that Dark path. Sure, she had missed those signs with Anakin, but she had been so young then. Where was she in the future? Why had Ben only met her a few times in his youth? Why would she have kept her distance from the Skywalkers? She can feel herself frowning as Ben sets his intense gaze on her.

“I was thinking of stealing Rey away from lessons this afternoon. I’ve been wanting to explore the ‘dyad’ further, I’m hoping that we can learn to control it.” He says casually before taking a sip of caf from his own mug. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Oh,” She begins, surprised, not at his question, but that he has spoken at all. “I think that would be fine.” She agrees, nodding. “Rey’s already quite a bit more advanced than the Skywalkers when it comes to her forms – how long has she been training?”

“No longer than six months,” Ben answers after a bit of consideration. “I’m actually not sure who she’s training with currently… in our time.” He quickly clarifies.

“Not you?”

Ben huffs out a small laugh at that and brings his mug of caf up to his lips, smiling into the rim.

“No, decidedly not.” He purses his lips a moment as if in thought. “I do believe she had a bit of a head start from, you know,” He taps one finger against his temple. “The bond. I think it allows for transfer of information. I can’t be sure, of course, but that matches up with what she’s told me and, well, she managed to do this to me the first time she ever held a lightsaber.” He points to the scar that cuts down the right side of his face and snakes under the collar of his shirt.

“Impressive.” Ahsoka says with a smile, her eyebrows raising. “And you’ve only been training for how long?”

“Since I was ten.” He chuckles, shaking his head. Again, Ahsoka notices him try to hide his soft smile behind the mug in his hand.

“Well, I’ll assume you did something to deserve it.” Ahsoka says and she’d only meant for it to be a playful barb but the way his face darkens she realizes how on the mark she must have been. She clears her throat. “It’s interesting that it works like that – your bond, I mean.”

“Yes,” He says, his tone a bit stiffer than it had been a moment ago. “Well, I’d imagine _I_ know far more about scavenging than I have any right to thanks to that particular feature.”

“Here’s hoping you never need to use it.” She says lightly as she lifts her mug to him. “Speaking of scavenging,” She says after a slow sip. “We’re running low on a few supplies, I’ve noticed.” Ben nods as though he has noticed this as well. “We’re fine for now, but eventually someone is going to make a run – or else we’ll all be eating a lot of snake and frog soup.” She says, her nose scrunching up at the thought.

“Someone…” Ben begins slowly, chewing on the word. “Who were you thinking of?” He asks, his eyebrows raising with minute curiosity.

“Han,” She answers plainly. Ben frowns. “I figure we might as well take advantage of the fact that we have a smuggler with us – You disagree?” She asks, taking note of his souring expression. Ben works his jaw for a moment before answering.

“Who knows how many holos of Han are circulating currently, and I know that he’ll insist on taking _his_ ship.” He rolls his eyes, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “As far as I am aware, Vader has no idea that you are with us. You might be the safer option.”

“Ben,” Ahsoka begins, sighing. She sets her caf down on the metal surface of the table between them. “I’ve been at a pretty consistent level of ‘Wanted by the Empire’ for the past nineteen years. I’m no safer than any of you.” She shrugs. “And anyway, Han already said he wanted to do it.” Ben grounds out a gravelly sigh at that.

“Of course he did.” He sets his own caf down, his hands tightening into fists before him. He doesn’t look angry though, tense definitely, and maybe a little uncomfortable. “If Han goes, I’d like – I should go with him.”

“Oh?” Ahsoka raises one brow inquisitively. “And why’s that?”

“For protection.” He says and the look on his face makes it clear he knows just how lame of an excuse that really is. “And to make sure he comes back.” He doesn’t look at Ahsoka as he says that and some part of her realizes that _this_ is the real reason he wants to go with the smuggler, with his father. The realization is a cold one. “It would only be a few days, at most. Don’t you trust me yet, Tano?”

“I do,” She says quickly, but that’s not quite true. “I _want_ to.” She amends. “I’ve been fighting Sith and Dark Side agents since I was a kid.” She admits with a shrug. She picks up the warm mug with both hands, more for something to do than anything else. “And the ones I _have_ worked with haven’t proven themselves the most… reliable.”

It had been proven to her time and time again, a Darksider’s only loyalty was to themselves. Maybe though… maybe Ben is different. He seems to genuinely care about Rey, at the very least, something Ahsoka would have previously thought impossible for someone who uses the Dark Side. He’s not wholly Dark either, so maybe that has something to do with it. His presence in the Force is muddled, a murky and confused grey. Much like her, he’s no Jedi, but he’s no Sith either.

“I may have judged you a bit prematurely.” She admits. “If you think it’s best that you go with Han, I’ll trust you. You know him better than I do.”

A shadow passes over Ben’s face, dark and cold and sad. The silence that passes between them is far less pleasant now. Ahsoka downs the rest of her caf and stands.

“We should probably…” She stops when she sees Ben’s face. His brows are drawn together, he looks pensive, contemplative. His jaw works tensely as though chewing on a question. He sets those unsettlingly intense eyes on her again.

“The crystals in your sabers,” He begins uncomfortably. “You healed them, correct?” He doesn’t meet her eyes when he asks this, they are focused on some point over her shoulder she thinks.

“I did.”

She thinks that he might ask her _how_ she’d done it and some softer part of her, the part that has grown traitorously fond of this lost Skywalker, hopes he might ask her to show him how – he doesn’t do either. He’s quiet again for a long time, his gaze having dropped down to his hands, or, perhaps the mug in them. After some time he nods tersely.

“That’s what I thought.” He says, his tone clipped. He stands abruptly and stalks off towards his ship’s entry hatch. Ahsoka sighs and follows him.

* * *

Rey is supposed to be meditating, but she’s not, not really. She is distracted. Moments ago, Ben had stormed out of the _Shadow_ , Ahsoka following close behind, making a beeline for Han. Rey’s not sure why Ben is so upset but she can feel some kind of turbulence in him, confused and frustrated, but not angry. He’s still speaking with his father about something and Rey cannot tear her eyes away.

Her heart breaks as she watches them, and not just for Han, not just because of what she knows happens to him. Her heart breaks for the whole lot of them – this broken family, most of whom have no idea what tragedies await them just around the corner.

Some days Rey is simply bursting out of her skin with the want to run up to each and every one of them, to shout that they should hold each other close and never let go. She would force them to, if she could, to stay with and love each other, because that’s what families are supposed to do, or, that’s what she _thinks_ families are supposed to do. She wouldn’t know from experience. She hopes that’s what they do.

She wants to warn them about what is coming – but that’s a dangerous idea, right? Yoda said that too much knowledge of the future could be a bad thing, that the future is always changing. She wonders how much has already changed.

“Have you ever noticed,” Luke begins, keeping his voice low to not attract the attention of Yoda, as neither of them are too keen on getting whacked by a walking stick today. “How Ben and Han kinda look alike?” Rey snorts out a nervous laugh that is obviously too loud and both her and Luke freeze completely, she’s fairly sure neither of them are breathing.

“Um… not really,” She lies once she thinks that they are in the clear, that Master Yoda has not heard them.

Seeing the two Solos here, together, both of them being around the same age, it is obvious how much Ben resembles his father, and it’s not just physically. There are so many small, picked-up mannerisms she notices watching them side by side. The way Ben runs his hand through his hair when he’s nervous or thinking, or how he points his finger at a person when he’s frustrated with them. It’s those small, inherited gestures that must be so easy and natural to pick up when you grow up with a person – those are another reason her heart feels like it’s breaking.

“Not like, _identical_ , just – I don’t know, they could be brothers, you know?” He shrugs minutely and then his shoulders shake with silent laughter. “I mean, crazier things have happened, right? Leia and I are _twins_ , can you imagine if Ben and Han were related too? What are the odds of that?”

“Pretty high,” Rey mumbles.

“Can the two of you be quiet?” Leia hisses from Rey’s other side. “You’re going to get us all in trouble.”

“Leia,” Luke whispers, ignoring his sister’s request. “What do you think?”

“ _Luke_.”

“About Ben and Han.”

“I don’t think about Han!” Leia whispers quickly, nearly tripping over her words.

“No, I mean, do you think they – Ow!” Luke cries out a second before Rey feels a sharp pain crack across the back of her skull.

“Silence, meditation requires.” Yoda says from behind her. “Silence, yes.” He cackles.

“Sorry, Master Yoda.” Luke offers sheepishly as Rey angrily rubs the knot forming on the back of her head.

“Thanks a lot, you two.” Leia growls quietly after the old Jedi master wanders far enough away.

They break not long after for a mid-day meal. Rey sits next to Luke on one of the logs around the unlit bonfire, the area having become the sort of social hub of the campsite. Luke nibbles quietly at the green veg-meat and polystarch loaf while Rey scarfs her own rations down per usual. She’s used to the unnatural tasting food, having known little to nothing else for most of her life, the others are… still adjusting.

After finishing every last bit of her food, Rey turns her attention on Luke. He’s seemed so quiet and sad since, well, since the Death Star. His mood has only gotten worse since then, especially after his encounter in the Dark Side cave, something she would have tried to warn him away from, had she known it was calling to him. She sighs, wishing she knew what was on his mind.

“Luke, are you alright?” She asks softly. He looks up at her and, not for the first time, she notices how tired he looks, like he hasn’t been sleeping properly. He nods and she places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can talk to me, you know.” Luke looks at her cautiously for a moment before nodding again.

“I just – I wish Ahsoka or Yoda would talk with me… I’m – I’m just really confused.” He shakes his head, looking down into the food in his lap, his blond hair flowing with the movement.

“I wish there was some way I could help you.” She offers solemnly. Luke looks up, a spark of hope in his eyes.

“I – Maybe you can.” He starts softly. “I overheard Yoda speaking with Ben the other day, he said that Ben fell to the Dark Side, is that true?”

Rey worries at her lip, wondering if telling Luke the truth here could do any harm to the future, but as he already heard it from Yoda, she doesn’t see what it could possibly hurt. She nods. Luke smiles, which she finds to be an odd reaction to that news.

“That first day on the Falcon, when you helped me reach out to the Force for the first time, do you remember?” Luke asks eagerly.

“I remember,” Rey agrees. It seems like so long ago now though it has really only been a few weeks, perhaps a month, at most. She hasn’t been counting the days. She doesn’t do that anymore.

“I felt Ben then, in the Force, he was really cold and dark, but he feels different now, lighter, right?”

“Yeah, he does.” Rey says and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face.

She’s sensed it, that Light inside of him slowly growing. She also senses him fighting it less and less, accepting the change, accepting the Light that has _always_ been a part of him. She feels his Darkness too, those cold, black coils wrapped around his soul like chains. She wonders if he will ever be free from it, she hopes he will. She hopes for a future for him, a future with him – a hope she’d tried and failed to kill during those long six months after Crait.

“So, he was able to come back from it – the Dark?”

“He’s… coming back, I guess.” She offers with an awkward shrug.

It is a little uncomfortable discussing this with Luke. She is sure that Ben would not be happy if he knew this conversation was happening. Still, she can see how much Luke is struggling, the dark circles under his eyes gain more weight every day. If there’s any way she can help him, she’d like to try.

“How?” He asks quickly, his eyes searching her face as though it might contain all of the answers on how to pry someone back from the ice-cold clutches of the Dark Side. “How did he do it? Are you helping him?”

“I’m trying to,” Rey laughs nervously, something unpleasant coiling in the pit of her stomach. She feels like this conversation has taken a turn she wasn’t expecting. She wonders what, exactly, Luke saw in that cave. Perhaps she shouldn’t be having this conversation with Luke at all. Maybe she should find Ahsoka.

“What did you do?”

“I – I don’t know what you want me to say, Luke.” She shrugs, one finger scratching restlessly at the fabric of her trousers. “I told him I would help him and that he’s not alone, I guess – Why are you asking?”

“I – I just…” He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut tight. “If Ben can come back from the Dark, anyone can. That means it’s possible, right?” He looks up at her, his eyes brimming with hope and suddenly, with a bizarre cocktail of fear and pity brewing in her chest, Rey knows _exactly_ what they are talking about, what he is asking her. “Right?”

“Luke,” She starts lamely, but whatever she was going to say dies off in her throat.

What in the galaxy _can_ she say to him? She knows that Vader returns to the Light before his death, that Luke’s love for his father is enough to help him turn, but she can’t very well tell him that. Still, it would be lying to tell him that it is impossible. She feels incredibly trapped.

“What if I can help him, Rey?” Luke asks, and Rey can see tears welling up in his eyes. “What if I’m the only one who can?”

 _This isn’t going to go the way you think_ , is what she wants to say, is what she thinks. Never have Luke’s own words seemed so appropriate, but she can’t bring herself to say them, so she swallows them back down where they land hard in her churning gut.

“Coming back to the Light, it’s not a decision I made _for_ Ben, or that you can make for… anyone else.” She adds awkwardly. Luke has yet to reveal that this conversation is about his father and Rey is certainly not going to be the one to take that leap. “As much as you might want to, it’s something they have to choose on their own.”

Luke’s eyes slowly dip from her face to the ground below and he closes them, sighing dejectedly. Rey wraps one arm around his shoulders and pulls him into her. She tries to think of something more to say, something that might help him, but she has nothing. She rests her head against his shoulder and hopes that she hasn’t just made a terrible mistake.

* * *

Ben leads Rey into the wooded area behind his ship. They’ll want peace and quiet, not to mention privacy, while they work on understanding the bond they share. The location he’s chosen is not too far away from the clearing that the group has been calling ‘home’ for the past week or so, but far enough that he’s sure they won’t be disturbed.

The space he has chosen is less of a clearing and more like a patch of dry-ish ground surrounded on three sides by thick tree trunks and roots. It will be a tight squeeze, even for just the two of them sitting across from one another, but at least they will be protected from any stalking predators. Ben sits and nods, silently indicating Rey do the same. She complies, tucking herself between two thick roots, her knees so close they are almost touching his own.

“I’m worried about Luke.” Rey says a moment after sitting down.

“Why?”

“Have you seen him?” Rey asks in what sounds like disbelief. “He’s exhausted! He’s clearly worried about something and today… today he was asking me about you - and the Dark Side.”

“He was asking about me?” Ben asks stiffly.

“He’s noticed that you aren’t as Dark as you once were.” Rey offers, maybe a little sheepishly. “I’ve noticed too.” She adds with a smile.

Ben suppresses a flinch at her words. He knows that what she is saying is true, he’s felt it as well, but hearing it spoken aloud, it feels like an admonishment, even if Rey doesn’t mean it as one. His body is too used to punishment after any recognition of the Light that burns his soul, whether coming from Snoke’s hands or his own.

“At first, I thought he was just curious and I wanted to help him, but then I… I realized we weren’t talking about you anymore. I’m afraid he’s going to do something rash.” She says worrying at the hem of her tunic absentmindedly.

“Rash?” Ben asks carefully.

He knows what they are both thinking about even if neither of them will bring it up directly. She’d done something ‘rash’ in shipping herself off to him in an escape pod in an attempt to bring him back to the Light. It hadn’t gone the way either of them wanted at the time. He couldn’t turn her, and she couldn’t save him from himself. Ben fears that even after everything they have been through since, the wound may still be a bit too raw to inspect too closely.

“He wants to help Vader; his father.” She says, sighing sadly. “And I know he does, but…”

“We’re still a bit a ways from when that is supposed to happen.” Ben pauses, thinking. “Luke shouldn’t confront Vader and Sidious on the second Death Star for at least four more years. I doubt it’s even under construction…” He stops abruptly. _The second Death Star_ , should they tell someone about that?

“Four years?” Rey gasps. “Do you think we’ll be stuck here that long?” She looks up at him, her eyes pleading for answers he simply doesn’t have.

“I - I don’t know,” He says, taking her hand in one of his own. “I’m sorry, Rey.” He offers as softly as he can. “But don’t worry about Luke. He can’t do anything stupid, not with everyone here watching him.”

“I suppose,” Rey says, sounding unconvinced but nodding. “Maybe… maybe you could talk with him?”

“I don’t… maybe.” Ben sighs, relenting. “Maybe, but can we move on for now?”

“Yes, alright.” Rey agrees, smiling.

“I’m not sure how long we will be here,” He begins. “but the longer we’re here the more likely it becomes that we encounter Vader again.” Rey flinches slightly but nods in agreement. “We caught him by surprise last time, I think, but we won’t have that element on our side in the future. We need to learn to control our bond, the _dyad_ , I suppose.” Ben sighs, one hand coming up to rub at his temple. “I only wish that we had something to go off of, a text, a holocron – anything.”

“I haven’t read anything about dyads in my Jedi texts – not that I’ve finished them yet.”

“Well, as rare as it seems to be, I wouldn’t imagine…” Ben pauses, blinking, Rey’s words catching up with him. “You have Jedi texts?”

“Yes, well,” Rey laughs a little awkwardly. “I stole them, actually, from Luke – he wasn’t using them and…”

Ben can’t help the laugh that escapes him. The image of her stealing what must be ancient Jedi texts from under Luke’s nose is enough to break his composure. _Once a scavenger, always a scavenger_. He feels his heart swell when his eyes meet hers. She isn’t laughing, but she isn’t upset either. She’s just watching him and smiling.

“Well, in lieu of texts to follow, I think we should work on strengthening our bond.” Ben begins again once he’s gained control of himself. “I’m hoping that if we… open ourselves up to each other completely,” He says, his words a bit stilted, unable to hide his discomfort with allowing such vulnerability with anyone, even Rey. “And focus on our connection we can learn to control it. I’ve noticed that it seems to become intensified with physical touch, but I’d prefer not to lean on that crutch if possible.”

“Alright, so I’ll just…” Ben feels Rey wash over him and, for a moment, he can do nothing but blink dumbly at the sensation. “Like that?”

Ben nods in affirmation and hesitates a moment before lowering his own walls and letting Rey in fully. He’s frightened of what she might see or feel, but it has to be done. He steels himself and opens up. He focuses on the line of their connection and pushes in.

The bond that connects them, that indescribable _thing_ that Ben has always visualized as a glowing, golden thread tying their souls together, solidifies, thickens, now more resembling a rope in his mind than a string. The feeling of connecting with her fully is overwhelming. It crashes over him like a wave of light and soon it becomes impossible to tell her thoughts from his – in fact, there is no him or her, they simply are. It feels somehow foreign and completely familiar all at once.

It takes a moment for the sensation to subside and when Ben comes back to his physical body, he finds that he is trembling slightly, but Rey is too. He can feel the part of them that belongs to her inside of his mind. He can feel her brushing up against memories, fond ones and terrible ones, ones that are still so twisted and confused, ones that have been ripped apart and pieced back together by hands that are not his own. She shudders physically at a few.

The part of them that is Ben is in Rey’s mind. He’s been here before, of course, just as she has been inside of his. He’d felt her loneliness then, but he hadn’t really seen it. He hadn’t seen the years through her eyes as though he’d experienced them himself. Years of sand and scars and scavenging. Years hiding from the heat of the sun and from vicious sandstorms that lasted for days. Days and years alone, scratched into thick, metal walls, each mark a wound as real as any other.

Her strength marvels him, though it always has. He opens his eyes and looks at her, her own still closed, her consciousness still weaving its way through his memories. He watches the fine muscles between her brows twitch with concentration and he knows that he should be concentrating as well, this had been his idea after all, but he can’t close his eyes, can’t look away. She is lost in his mind, but he is lost in how much he loves her.

Rey’s eyes fly open in an instant. Ben, realizing what she must have heard or felt stands quickly throwing his shields back up with more force than he had intended causing Rey to stumble slightly as she rises to meet him.

“You love me?” Rey asks, her voice so quiet Ben almost can’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Rey, I…” He can’t deny it, he won’t. He does love her, maybe he has since she reached out to him through their bond.

“Ben, I love you too.” Rey says, her eyes shining, filling with tears. She is smiling at him again. He thinks her tone should be reassuring, but it does nothing to slow his rapidly quickening heart.

Ben rears backwards, as though Rey had reached out and struck him. It’s not that he’s surprised necessarily, though it is a shock to hear, it’s that he’s terrified. He knows that what she’s said is true, that she’s not _lying_ to him, she wouldn’t do that – she might not be able to do that – but that only stokes the fear in his heart further.

“Why?” He asks without thinking, the word falling from his mouth unbidden. Something pained flies across Rey’s face before she smiles at him again, reaching one hand up to caress his cheek.

“Because no one knows me the way you do, no one understands me… no one could.” She squeezes his hand with the one not on his face. “I mean, you heard what Master Yoda said, about the dyad? You’re a part of me, how could I…”

“So, you don’t have a choice, then?” Ben asks coldly, something frightened and anxious coils in his chest. It whispers _she would never choose you._ The voice he hears is his own and the words twist like a knife in his stomach. _If she could, she would choose another, maybe Dameron or the traitor?_

“No Ben,” She shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all…”

“Of course, no one would ever love me unless they had no other choice in the matter.” He says, his jaw shaking. He looks at the ground, anywhere but at Rey. “Not even my own family…”

“Your family _loves_ you.” Rey says, her tone, like her statement, is solid and unwavering. Ben tries to turn away, but she grips his hand tighter, keeping him in place. She won’t let him run. “Leia loves you; I’ve seen it. Your father –”

Ben flinches, but Rey grips his chin with her hand and forces him to look her in the eyes as she continues.

“Look at me, Ben.” She says firmly. “I know this is hard for you to hear, but your father loved you, you know he did.” She swallows thickly.

“Maybe he shouldn’t have.” Ben says. He’d meant for his words to be as strong as Rey’s, but they come out broken and pathetic.

“Stop,” She shakes her head, her eyes never leaving his own. “That isn’t what this is about. Your mother loves you, your father loved you –”

Ben’s heart is pounding, threatening to beat straight out of his chest. His lungs are burning because he simply can’t get enough oxygen. He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear this – _any_ of this. It’s bad enough that he has to be surrounded by these people all day every day, but now he must be confronted with the ‘proof’ of their love?

“Go on! Do Luke next!” Ben spits. He grasps desperately at the memory of his uncle’s betrayal, of the rage that stirs in him. Anger is easy to feel, it is easy to understand. “Tell me how my uncle _loved_ me. Remind me of how he loved me so much he tried to kill me in my sleep!” Ben is shouting now, and it is entirely possible the others might hear them, but he is past caring about that right now. He looms over Rey, but she is as uncowed by his physicality as ever.

“I won’t defend what Luke did to you. I’ll never – I was furious when I found out – when you told me. When he confessed,” She laughs, but there is not joy in the sound, it crackles with anger. “I attacked him, I –” She shakes her head to clear her thoughts as Ben inhales sharply. She had attacked Luke, fought for _him_? No one has ever done that before. “But I think that you should know as well as anyone how you can hurt the people you care about.” She says firmly, her eyes hard, her mouth downturned. “We can do horrible things to the people we love.”

Ben deflates, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the undeniable truth of Rey’s words. He’d killed his father and he’d never hated him; in truth, he’d never stopped loving him. He’d lead an army against his mother with every intention of destroying her and everything she stood for, of destroying Rey, he’d – He closes his eyes.

“I have.” He chokes out.

“I know that.”

“So how can you love me?” Ben asks, his voice a wavering, watery mess.

“I know what you’ve done, but I also know who you are.” She says, flashing him a quick, sad smile. “I know how you’ve been manipulated, even if you deny it still – and no,” she adds quickly as Ben opens his mouth to interject. “That doesn’t absolve you of your choices, but it can help explain some of them. You are not just a collection of your bad deeds, Ben Solo. You are a person, and I can _feel_ how you want to change, how you already have. And –”

She screws her eyes shut, a single tear snaking down her cheek. A stabbing pain shoots through Ben’s chest knowing that _he_ has done this to her. She’d been so happy only a moment ago. This is precisely why she _shouldn’t_ love him. He ruins everything.

“You think I don’t have a _choice_?” She asks, looking up at him, her voice cracking painfully over the last word. “Of course I have a choice, Ben. I made a _choice_ six months ago.” She wraps her arms around her chest, holding herself tight. “I never – Do you have any idea how much I _wanted_ to take your hand?” She asks, her eyes imploring. Ben can only swallow around the gathering lump in his throat. “But I couldn’t – I couldn’t stay, not like that.” She looks like she is struggling not try cry in earnest now. “So, I made a choice.” She shrugs sadly.

“ _Rey_ ,” Ben whimpers pitifully. She looks up at him softly.

“And I’m here now, I love you, not because I don’t have a choice – because you _are_ my choice.” The softness leaves her eyes in an instant, replaced by the fiery, stubborn energy of the scavenger he knows so well. “So, you’re just going to have to get used to it.”

Ben has no words. He wraps his arms around Rey and pulls her into him, buries his face into her temple to stifle the choked sob that escapes his throat. He holds her tight, clings to her like a port in a storm. No one has ever chosen him, or, at least, he’s never felt chosen. He is so desperate to be loved, to be loved by _Rey_ , but he’s absolutely terrified of it as well. He’s so certain that he will wreck it as he has for every other good thing life has ever dared throw him and he _knows_ he will not survive that.

He doesn’t know how to love someone, but even more that that, he doesn’t know how to _be_ loved, and it frightens him.

“I don’t know how to be loved either.” Rey says softly as she rubs comforting circles into his back. Ben’s not sure if she picked up his thoughts through the bond or if he’s been blubbering aloud like an idiot, but he doesn’t care. “We can figure it out together.”

He holds her and she holds him back and lets him cry into her and it’s everything. She’s everything.

“I love you,” He says, his voice hoarse.

“I know that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nice to see Ahsoka and Ben getting along finally, isn't it - even if Ben had to go and angst it up at the end there. That's what he does best, huh? I do think that they would eventually see eye-to-eye on a few things, even if Ahsoka has an (understandable) prejudice against Dark Side users. They were both failed by the Jedi in their own times and in their own ways.
> 
> Team cinnamon roll, back at it again - this time with considerably more angst! This is an angst filled chapter, huh? Sorry about that, unless your into that sort of thing. In that case, you're welcome! 😂 Poor Lucas is really struggling right now. Luckily, professional Skywalker therapist Rey is on hand to help!
> 
> And the kids are in love! 💖🥰💖 I mean, who are we kidding, they have been for a _while_ now, but they finally admitted it! Bless Benji, he's an emotional train wreck of a man, but that's part of what I love about him. I'll be honest, I always struggle with writing love confessions of any kind, so I hope that this one works! If anyone is interested, I have made a companion chapter that goes into what happens _after_ the 'I love you' called [One Single Thread of Gold Tied Me To You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195293). (Big shout-out to T-Swift for being my perennial muse) This chapter is rated 'Explicit', so fair warning, but check it out if you are so inclined! 🥴🥰
> 
> Thanks, as always, to everyone for the kudos and bookmarks and your kind comments. I really love hearing from you all - it always makes my day! Thanks so, so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! 😊💕


	24. Let's Hear It For The Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Relax,” Ben mutters. A humorless puff of air escaping his nose. “Got it.”
> 
> “I know that relaxin’ ain’t really your thing.” Han laughs, clapping one hand on Ben’s back which only causes him to tense further and Han to laugh harder. “I meant what I said back on Tatooine, what you need a nice, stiff drink.” With how this trip with Han has been going so far, Ben can’t help but agree. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Han, Ben, and Chewie head off on their 'Boy's Trip', Luke gets a bit of a 'heads up' from Yoda on what to expect at the end of his Jedi Journey (TM), and Leia and Luke have a mild disagreement.

“Fruit! Fresh fruit here!” One of the merchants on the Produce Level of Pau City shouts, desperate to hawk his wares. “Sir! Sir!” The male Utai calls out and though Ben refuses to meet his gaze he _knows_ the call is directed at him. “Can I interest you in some jogan fruit, sir? Freshest this side of the galaxy.”

Carefully, Ben pulls back the hood of his cloak to peek at the fruit in question – something that will spoil so quickly is certainly not the best option to spend their limited credits on, but Rey loves fruit, perhaps he could bring her back one or two? Has she tried jogan fruit before?

He scrunches his nose in disgust at the display before him. The normally vibrant, purple rind of the fruit on the merchant’s cart has dulled and Ben can see how soft and overripe they are from where he stands a meter or so away. ‘ _Freshest this side of the galaxy_ ’ – Bantha shit. He pulls his hood back to cover his face and silently raises a hand, indicating his disinterest. The trader moves on quickly, knowing when there’s no sale to be made.

Ben turns his attention to the crowd beyond him, carefully picking Han and Chewie out in the shuffle. It is, unfortunately, not difficult to spot them, even wearing their own hooded cloaks as they are, the Wookiee’s height giving him away easily. Luckily, many others around them also hide their visages behind dark cloaks. The Outer Rim has always been a haven for those in hiding, for those who prefer to keep to the shadows.

He shoulders past the strangers in front of him, drawing closer to Han and Chewie. Utapau had been a smart choice for their covert supply run, Ben is glad that Han chose it. Pau City, though the capital of the planet, is not especially large. It is a sink hole, eleven distinct layers built into the walls of stone, held up by the ancient, fossilized bones of long-dead underground beasts. The streets here are often dark, even when the sun shines brightly in the sky. It is a good place to stay hidden.

Ben’s eyes dart every which way. He feels every eye on them like a physical presence and his hand instinctually slides over where his lightsaber is strapped to his belt, hidden beneath the dark fabric of his cloak. He only hopes that he will have no cause to use his weapon, something he couldn’t even imagine thinking just a month or so ago.

“You gotta relax, big guy.” Han grumbles under his breath. “People are gonna look at you like you’re trouble if you keep actin’ like you are.” Han gestures smoothly with both hands in front of him. “As far as anyone here knows we’re just a few spacers looking to restock supplies – ‘Cause that _is_ all we are.”

“Relax,” Ben mutters. A humorless puff of air escaping his nose. “Got it.”

“I know that relaxin’ ain’t really your _thing_.” Han laughs, clapping one hand on Ben’s back which only causes him to tense further and Han to laugh harder. “I meant what I said back on Tatooine, what you need a nice, stiff drink.” With how this trip with Han has been going so far, Ben can’t help but agree.

Ben manages, with the help of Chewie, to talk Han out to trying to find a bar or cantina, stressing that they really needed this mission to be a quick one, one without distraction. Han gives up the ghost of trying to get Ben to _relax_ eventually. Likely, his real goal had been to get a drink himself, or, more dangerously, to try and secure some type of shady deal or job.

Even without the help of the Force, Ben knows how stir-crazy Han is going, stuck on Dagobah with nothing to do. Ahsoka had been right, he knows his father far better than anyone in their group outside of Chewie. He can see it in the man’s eyes, the desire for a purpose, for a _something_ to do – whether that be smuggling or racing or leading a rebellion or… well, that seems to be about the end of the list as far as Ben is aware. Han doesn’t like to be tied down, to stay in one place for too long, especially if he feels he has no choice in the matter.

Han used to joke that he’d go ‘planet mad’ if his feet were on solid ground for too long. Ben never laughed. Eventually Han stopped laughing too. Eventually Han stopped making excuses as to why he just _had_ to go this time, he stopped making promises about when he would be back. By the time the promises stopped, it hardly mattered, his son didn’t believe him any longer.

He would always return with gifts and treats, but Ben had never wanted any of those, all he had wanted was his father – until he didn’t, until the voice in his head twisted up everything he’d ever felt for his parents and the people that surrounded him until warm emotions were unrecognizable. Maybe Han’s promises had been more earnest than Ben remembers. Ben doesn’t know. Some of his memories don’t make sense.

As Han and Chewie are bartering – arguing – with a merchant selling salted and dried meats Ben’s eye is caught by something at a nearby stall. A tray of stones, none of them sparkling or precious or rare. Really, they look to be nothing more than pebbles smoothed by weather and time and polished by hand, possibly by the vendor selling them. One of the stones is a rich forest green. Ben picks it up, turning it over in his hand, inspecting it – for what, he’s not sure.

“Hey!” Han’s voice startles Ben, causing him to fumble with the stone in his grasp, nearly dropping it to the rocky floor below. “I didn’t think we came here for pretty rocks. ‘In and out, Han’.” He says, his tone a clear mockery of Ben’s voice.

Ben grits his teeth and sighs slowly, willing all sharp retorts to die on his tongue. He pockets the stone and flips the merchant a few credits.

“I’ll assume you secured a deal with the meat vendor, then?” He asks, ignoring Han’s quip.

“Yeah,” Han says, nodding. “We coulda got a better deal, but Chewie here’s weak, so…” He shrugs.

“Well,” Ben begins, thinking over the list he and Ahsoka had compiled of necessities they were running low on. “That should be everything.” He turns, pushing through the crowd. The _Falcon_ is docked back up on the Wealth level, but Ben had made sure to not stray too far.

“Great.” Han grumbles. “Back to Swamp City.”

Transporting the secured supplies would be easier with the use of the Force, as just about everything is, but Ben would actually rather prefer to not draw any attention to himself or his companions, so they have to settle with moving the crates manually. This is why they made several trips from the ship to the market and back again. They’d hit the purified water vendor first and then several merchants selling freeze-dried food stuffs, things that hold up well over time. Ben even managed to secure a bit of caf, something that is definitely not a necessity, but he only feels a little bad for the wasted credits.

There’s no telling how long they will be on Dagobah. If Yoda intends on completing Luke and Leia’s Jedi training then it could very well be years – Ben only hopes that he and Rey aren’t stuck here for that long. Credits and supplies will become a very precious resource as time goes on. Bail did supply them with a healthy sum of money, and contacting the Alliance is always an option should something catastrophic happen, but Ben would prefer to keep the amount of people that know their location to a minimum. Ben knows with spine-chilling certainty that anytime a rebel is captured in the future Vader will be searching for that specific information, likely personally. He also knows from his experience as both an interrogator and the interrogated, that everyone cracks eventually.

They make their way up to the level where the _Falcon_ is docked without incident, but it does little to soothe Ben’s quickly fraying nerves. He is so on edge and he’s certain it is not just his finely trained paranoia any longer. He can feel danger, a buzz in the Force at the base of his neck. He looks around them, straying the line between suspicious and curious, his teeth grinding together.

“Oh, welcome back, sirs!” C-3PO greets them as they begin loading their cargo onto the _Falcon_. “I have kept a very close eye on the ship, per your instruction, and all is in order, as I promised. I even managed to…”

“Yeah, thanks a lot.” Han grumbles, pushing past the golden droid on his way to one of the holds.

They load their haul quickly and finish by the time the circle of sky above has grown a warm pink-orange. Ben looks over the crates and boxes loaded into the third hold and does one last mental check to ensure they have not forgotten anything. Once he’s satisfied that they will not have to return for more supplies any time soon, he makes his way to the cockpit, but finds Chewie there alone, slowly running through pre-flight checks.

“Where’s Han?” Ben asks stiffly.

Chewie does not turn around but merely shrugs and rumbles a suggestion to check the refresher. Ben turns swiftly and starts off towards the ship’s refresher, his stride quicker than normal. He raises one fist to knock on the door, but it slides open smoothly as he does so, revealing it to be empty. He grounds out a sigh.

“Threepio,” He begins tightly, finding the droid in the lounge. “Have you seen Han?”

“Oh, yes, Master Ben, as a matter of fact I have.” C-3PO responds, waddling over to stand in front of Ben. “He exited the ship not long ago, actually, and he…”

“He -” A low growl escapes Ben as he pinches the bridge of his nose, a stress-induced headache building at the front of his skull. The pressure only seems to enhance the dangerous vibrations he feels coursing through the Force all around him. “Where did he go? Did you ask?”

“I did, but he merely told me to ‘buzz off, goldenrod.’ Quite unnecessary, if you ask me, and not to mention... Wait a moment, where are _you_ going, Master Ben?”

“I’m going to find Han!” Ben calls out to the droid behind him as he quickly makes his way towards the ship’s gangway, punching the button to open the hatch with far more force than necessary. “Tell Chewie to get the ship ready - we’ll be right back.”

* * *

Luke wakes - well, that might not be the right word as he doesn’t really remember falling asleep last night - with a sore back and stiff neck. Sleeping on the floor of the _Shadow_ doesn’t agree with him, but with the others off in the _Falcon_ gathering supplies, there really aren’t many other options. Ben’s ship only has one bed in the captain’s quarters. Luke, Leia, Rey, and Ahsoka have been trading off sleeping in the bed and on the floor for the past few nights. Luckily, Ben and Han and Chewie should be back tomorrow, if all has gone well on their mission.

He tries to stretch the knots and tension and exhaustion out of his tight muscles as he sits up, but it doesn’t really work. Leia and Ahsoka are still asleep as Luke sneaks out of the sleeping quarters. Rey is up, sitting in the ship’s small galley, already tucking into her breakfast, scarfing it down as though someone is liable to snatch it away from her at any second. She pauses when she sees him, offering a small, sleepy smile.

“Good morning, Luke.” She says softly, carefully. She is always careful with him these days, especially since he admitted to wanting to help his father. He can see the way she eyes him warily, looks at him like he is something bound to break at any moment. He resents it, even if he does feel like that himself sometimes. He hasn’t brought his father up with her since then, hasn’t brought him up with anyone. No one understands.

Luke smiles weakly in return as he makes his way to the ‘fresher. He likes the ‘fresher on the _Shadow_. It’s bigger than the one on the _Falcon_ , for one, and it has an actual water shower to boot. The first time he’d used it he just stood under the spray, letting it go until it ran cold against his skin, he hadn’t even cleaned himself really. Leia had yelled at him afterwards for using up all the hot water.

He doesn’t take a shower this morning. He runs the sink and splashes some of the cold water onto his face. He hardly recognizes the person staring back at him in the mirror. Months ago, his only worry in the galaxy was whether or not his uncle would let him join the academy before or after the next harvest.

He'll never see another harvest; he realizes only now. He never liked being a moisture farmer, but it was his life, it is what he knows. What will he be now? A Jedi, he supposes, but the thought alone makes his heart beat a little faster and his chest hurt. Ahsoka doesn’t speak much of the Jedi, preferring to keep her lessons solely tuned to the Force, Ben is much the same.

Yoda has tried to impress some of the values of the Jedi upon Luke and Leia. An ancient order of protectors, it seems to be much more than Rey had led Luke to believe all those weeks ago on Alderaan. Yoda says that he and Leia are the future of the Order and those words feel like they weigh as much as the entire galaxy. Luke grips the rim of the sink tightly to anchor himself.

He stares at the deep purple shadows hanging heavily under his eyes, the ones that darken with every restless night. He’ll have a bit of caf – if they have any left – and will nibble on a ration bar and the bags will fade, but they always return the next morning.

Every night, it seems, Luke is plagued with visions. Sometimes he dreams of Leia kneeling before him, pleading look in her eyes, that crackling voice commanding Luke to kill her. Sometimes he dreams that Leia kills their father, her eyes cold and emotionless. Sometimes Luke dreams that he is fighting his father, his blue blade and his fathers’ red clashing frantically, and Luke doesn’t know why. It is easier if he doesn’t sleep.

He sighs, steeling himself, running one hand through his hair. He fortifies the mental shields Ben taught him to construct a few weeks ago and assures himself that he will be fine.

Leia and Ahsoka are up by the time he leaves the ‘fresher. He sits down at the small table in the galley next to his sister who rests a sleepy head on his shoulder. She takes a bite of a ration bar and grimaces. Luke can feel himself smile despite everything else he is feeling.

“Today, Yoda is going to lead you three through morning meditation and then we’ll all be running the training course I set up.” Ahsoka announces rummaging through the cupboards for something. She frowns slightly when she comes up emptyhanded. “Actually Rey, there are a few things I still need to get ready, could you lend me a hand?”

“Of course.” Rey agrees, nodding.

“When do we stop –” Leia starts but her question is broken up by a deep yawn. “When do we stop meditating so much?”

“Kind of never.” Ahsoka answers with a tired little laugh. Leia sighs. “But here, you’ll need these for later.”

Ahsoka unclips Luke and Leia’s lightsabers and hands the hilts to each of them in turn. Leia sits up straighter, inspecting her weapon closely. Luke holds his saber tightly, his smile spreading further. He has the urge to flick it on and see the bright blue blade once again, but he doesn’t want to give Ahsoka a reason to take it back.

“You think we’re ready for this?” Leia asks warily.

“I wouldn’t have given them to you if I didn’t.”

“Thank you, Ahsoka.” Luke says, clipping the hilt to his own belt, enjoying the weight of it on his side.

“You got it, Skyguy.” She says with a wink before turning her attention to the caf machine behind her.

Luke tries to make it through meditation without incident or diversion, but it’s hard. When everything is so quiet it is hard for his mind not to stray towards his father or his nightmares or that vision from the cave. He had once thought meditation simply boring, but now it seems near impossible. He breathes in deeply and holds the air in his lungs for a long moment, trying to focus on nothing but that, but his mind is not truly clear.

“Distracted, you are.”

Luke’s eyes fly open at the sound of Yoda’s voice, the stones that had been floating nearby crash to the ground, one only narrowly avoiding hitting Leia on the shoulder. Luke’s breath escapes him in a loud whoosh and he blinks dumbly at the Jedi Master for a long moment.

“Huh?”

“Distracted.” Yoda repeats, both hands resting on the top of his gimer stick. “Afraid too, I think. Yes, afraid also. Let go of your fear, you must. A path to the Dark Side, it is.”

“I don’t know how.” Luke admits, not even bothering to deny the fear roiling inside of him. He’s not sure he could hide it from Yoda anyway, the old master seems to see right through him

“Your fear, where does it come from, hmm?” Yoda asks curiously. “What is the root?”

Luke opens his mouth to speak but then shuts it quickly. He’s not sure he should tell Yoda, but the way the old alien looks into his eyes leaves no room for anything but the truth. Luke’s not certain that he could find a lie inside of him if he tried.

“My father,” He confesses softly. A rustling to his right tells him that he’s gotten Leia’s attention now as well.

“Afraid to confront him?” Yoda asks, nodding as though he already knows the answer. “Afraid to face him – ready, you are not, for this. No, ready neither of you are.”

Luke could swear his heart stops. His mouth hangs open, chin trembling slightly, his hands balling into fists on top of his legs.

“C-confront him?” Luke asks, his voice shakier than he would like.

“What are you talking about, Master Yoda?” Leia asks.

“Confront Vader, you must, but only when your training is complete, will you be ready.” He responds gravely, his eyes focused on the swamp beyond Luke.

Luke feels something settle in his sister, like some turbulence that had been roaring in her soul has finally been laid to rest. She says nothing, but she doesn’t need to.

_Why do you think we’re here, Luke?_

_We must confront him. It is our destiny._

Luke doesn’t close his eyes as Master Yoda walks away, doesn’t return to meditation. His blood feels cold, but the fear and anxiety that has been ever present since they’d arrived on this planet over a month ago fades. He sucks in a deep breath, holding the air in his lungs until they burn and scream for him to let go. He exhales slowly.

 _You know what you have to do_.

He does.

* * *

Leia lets out a frustrated cry as the remote droid flies around to face her back and hits her with a bolt square in the shoulder. The sound is raw and almost animalistic, unlike any noise that has ever escaped her before. She roars as she whips around and blocks the next shot with her lightsaber. She likes working with the blade much more than any other part of Force training. If someone asked, she would be only a little embarrassed to admit how thrilling it is to use the weapon.

She jumps up, using the Force to propel her higher than she could ever get naturally, just as Ahsoka taught her. She reaches down with her left hand at the apex of her jump to toggle the ‘off’ button on the remote as it struggles to get her back in its sights. Her feet land on the ground with a wet thud at the same time as the small, round training droid. She hears something rumble low in the distance; thunder she thinks.

A small, triumphant laugh escapes her as she brushes a few loose wisps of sweat-dampened hair out of her face. She wishes she had thought to bring more hairpins with her, and she suspects that the ones she did bring have been getting filched by Ben. She can’t be too mad at him though, not when Rey’s braids look so lovely. She should teach the girl to braid so that she can return the favor to him.

Leia reaches out with the Force as she pants, catching her breath. She can feel Rey and Ahsoka on the course ahead of her. Yoda is further away, surely off meditating again in his little hut. Leia has often wondered if he ever does anything else. Luke though, he feels wrong. He should be right behind her - but he’s not.

She feels something tingling down her spine, something isn’t right. She feels it in her blood and her bones, it burns, acidic, like a toxin running through her. She knows now that this is no clever intuition, as she had once thought, but the Force – a warning. Giving little thought to the rest of the training course, she heads off back towards camp.

She finds Luke there, unloading crates of supplies, what little they have left, at least, from the _Shadow_. He piles them neatly by the bonfire at the center of the clearing. He works solemnly and dutifully, his face set in a deep frown. Leia reaches out to try to get a sense of what her brother is feeling, but she runs up against a solid wall.

“Luke!” Leia calls out into the quiet of the clearing. The creatures of Dagobah chirp and hiss and skitter and pay her no mind, but her brother stops dead in his tracks and turns slowly to face her. “What are you doing?” She feels the first drop of rain hit her cheek.

“I’m going to him, Leia.” Luke confesses quietly as the bog beside him bubbles and releases foul smelling gas into the air.

“Going to him?” Leia repeats as her brows furrow. She takes a tentative step towards her brother who makes no move, either to come closer or back away further.

Luke says nothing for a moment, his eyes gazing off as something far in the distance behind his sister, then they flick down to the moist, muddy ground at his feet which he shuffles nervously. He does not meet Leia’s eyes when he speaks again. He grasps the hilt of his lightsaber tightly in one hand. Lightning crashes overhead, lighting the dark grey clouds for just a moment.

“Our father,” He says plainly, though not confidently, his words timed perfectly with a loud thunderclap.

Leia’s mouth falls open in shock. If she’d had something she was going to say to him, it is lost in this moment. She cannot, for the life of her, understand why, after everything that… _man_ has done, Luke would want to go to him. She’s known, for a while now, that her brother has some lingering sympathy towards the man that was their father, Anakin Skywalker, but surely that doesn’t extend to the _thing_ he is now. The only explanation she can muster is that he must be going to confront Vader.

“You’re not ready yet, Master Yoda said -”

“I’m not going to fight him, Leia.” He shakes his head, a single tear snaking down his face, though it is lost as the rain picks up around them. “I can’t, he’s our _father_.”

“Wh - what?”

“There’s still good in him, I _know_ there is. I’ve felt it.” Luke does look at her now, Leia sees the steely determination in his eyes. She shakes her head in disbelief.

“No, there’s not Luke. He’s gone.” She wills her voice to be firm and it obeys.

“I don’t believe that. I can help him – I have to _try_.” Luke says and Leia just can’t understand, won’t, she refuses to. She needs to stop him; she needs to get Master Yoda so that he can talk some _sense_ into her brother. There’s nothing to save in Vader, nothing worth trying for. She can feel anger growing and growling in the pit of her stomach, a living thing. She clings to it as it is so much more solid than confusion or despair.

“I won’t let you leave, Luke.” Leia says, her feet spreading apart beneath her, steadying her. Her lightsaber is clipped to her side, but she makes no move for it, not yet. She doesn’t want to have to fight Luke if she doesn’t have to. “I won’t let you walk into a trap.”

“I’m not.” He says, shaking his head. “He saved my life, Leia, during the battle of Yavin, he shot the other TIEs down and told me to use the Force to destroy the Death Star. There’s still good in him, still Light. He just needs someone to show him - like Rey did for Ben…”

“Ben is _different_.” Leia insists, her fingers twitching by her side as Luke takes a step backwards towards Ben’s ship. More thunder. It sounds louder now, closer, though Leia is surprised she can hear it over the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

“Is he?” Luke asks, his tone genuine and deeper than normal. “They both fell, didn’t they? They were both trained in the Light.”

“And you saw what he did to Ben, didn’t you?” Leia asks desperately. She can still hear his screams sometimes at night, they haunt her still. “Luke, you don’t know what he’s done, who he’s become. Maybe he was a good man once," Leia concedes, though she does so with no small amount of bitterness. “But that was a long time ago. Please, Luke, reconsider this.” She pleads.

“He needs someone, Leia. Please, you have to trust me.” Tears are forming in her brother’s eyes but Leia ignores them. She reaches for her lightsaber and switches it on, the blue blade illuminating the trees around her. She doesn’t know what else to do, all she knows is that she can’t let him go this way. Luke does not seem surprised, perhaps sad, resigned, disappointed.

“I’m not letting you leave here to go to him.” Leia says, readying herself for a fight. “Don’t make me fight you, Luke.” She begs, her voice wavering.

“I’m sorry, Leia.” Luke says, his own lightsaber flicking to life in his hands. “I know what I have to do.”

Leia charges, her feet sticking in the mud as she does. Luke stands his ground, makes no move to attack. Leia swings high and Luke blocks her easily, she’d meant for him to. She doesn’t want to hurt her brother, she won’t, but she can’t let him leave and run off to Vader who will certainly hurt him or try to turn him to the Dark Side, neither of which Leia can allow. She just needs to hold him off, distract him until Rey and Ahsoka return or until Master Yoda realizes something is wrong. She’d sensed this after all, surely the others have as well and will be here any moment.

Leia swings right and then left, each of her strikes are blocked by Luke’s blade. Each slash of her blade cuts into her, breaks her heart, tears her apart. She needs the others to help her stop Luke, to talk him down from this crazy notion he has that their father can be saved. She calls out for them, her voice going ragged from the strain. Some of her calls are lost in the thunderclaps above, none of them are heard.

“Leia, please,” Luke says, his voice steady but melancholy. He blocks another of her swings effortlessly.

“You can’t save him, Luke!” She cries into the air, desperate for her brother to understand. “Please, don’t do this!”

Leia tries to center herself, but inside she is a storm of fear and anger and misery. Why won’t Luke listen to her? Why won’t he see? She feels something cold pull at her, something tempting and powerful. It flows through her veins as seamlessly as blood, fills her lungs like oxygen.

What if Luke has already fallen? Is this what it is like? She feels nothing from him but a dulled cold. Her chest tightens at the thought. How can she help him? She can’t let him become like Vader, she won’t. The rain continues to pour, soaking the both of them to the bone, making the ground even slicker and trickier to navigate than it normally is.

The blue blades crashing together is a brilliant sight, the rain hissing on the hot plasma. Luke takes a step back towards Ben’s craft and Leia moves to follow him, but the wet ground below gives way, her ankle twisting underneath her. She cries out in pain, her eyes squeezing shut as she swings erratically, her balance gone.

Leia opens her eyes a beat before Luke screams. She takes a step back as her eyes frantically search her brother’s form, nausea turning in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to hit him – is he very hurt? What has she _done_? At first, he seems to be totally fine, though clearly in pain. It is only when she sees the hilt of his blade on the ground, glinting in the bright flash of the lightning streaking across the sky, wrapped in the lifeless fingers of his right hand that she knows what she has done.

Leia backs up further in shock, in horror. She doesn’t see or sense the root that trips her and she falls to the ground. Luke just stares at her for a moment, pain and betrayal clear on his face, his wounded arm tucked up securely against his chest. What has she done? She can’t breathe. She’s going to be ill. She’s a monster.

“I’m so sorry, Luke.” She manages to rasp out past the hard lump that has formed in her throat. Scrambling backwards in the muck and mud, the rain coming down in heavy sheets.

He says nothing as he reaches down with his left hand, the only one he has now, thanks to her, and picks up his lightsaber.

“Don’t follow me.” He says lowly.

Without another word, Luke climbs up the entry ramp of the _Shadow_. Leia is frozen as she watches the ship hover off of the ground, fly up into the night sky, and break the planet’s atmosphere. Once he is gone, and Leia is truly alone, she curls in on herself, pulling her knees into her and burying her face in her legs, and she weeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! You all have no idea how long I've been sitting on this fight - I wrote this scene out in _June_. I always get super nervous before posting chapters with major plot developments, especially when I'm taking something from the canon and twisting it around a bit, so I really hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Another thing I've been looking forward to for a while was the 'Boy's Trip' (as I love nothing more than shoving Ben and Han together, it brings me joy as nothing else can.) We've found ourselves on the tail end of it, but that's the best end, believe you me. 😉 I'm excited for what we've got in store for this little gang!
> 
> The Kenobi blade claims another Skywalker limb, truly its lust for that family's blood cannot be sated! As stated above, I knew this fight was coming for quite some time, and I really liked the idea of Luke and Leia dueling with Obi Wan and Anakin's lightsabers.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone for the kudos and bookmarks and for your wonderful comments! We've been building up to this chapter for some time and I hope that the build up works and that you all enjoyed it! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	25. Me 'N My Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not even sure how to get in contact with his father. Can he just show up at an Imperial base and say, ‘ _Hi, I’m Lord Vader’s son, can you take me to him?_ ’ Surely not. He might be able to contact his father through the Force, but he hasn’t done that since the first night on Dagobah. Still, it can’t hurt to try – but maybe only after he gets some rest.
> 
> \---
> 
> This chapter is all about some good, old, wholesome father-son bonding! Ben and Han run into one of Han's old friends while Luke and his father finally get some time to catch up since the Death Star.

Ben instantly throws his hood back over his head as he exits the _Falcon_. He can hear C-3PO calling out to him from inside the ship but pays the droid no mind. His pace is quick as he makes his way from the spaceport and into the Wealth Level proper. The buildings on this level are a bit grander in design than on the Produce Level, though great fossilized bones are still featured prominently in the construction. Ben pays no mind to the planet’s unique architecture, his thoughts are elsewhere – namely, on finding Han.

He fists his right hand in the dark fabric of his cloak to physically keep himself from grabbing his lightsaber – the weapon’s design is too particular, too memorable. Once, he had thought this a boon, something visual and impressive to help inspire fear and awe. Now, it is nothing but an easily recognizable burden.

His heart beats violently in his chest as he reaches out with the Force, shouldering past Pau’ans and Utai and offworlders alike. He finds his father’s presence, the light dimmer than a Force-attuned individual’s would be but still no less familiar to Ben. It is rough, like sandpaper or like calloused hands enveloping his much smaller ones, teaching him how to fly. He breathes a sigh of relief when he senses that his father has not gotten too far away. Ben keeps himself open and follows that intangible connection straight to Han.

The streets here are far more crowded than the Produce Level, so Ben’s progress is not quick, but he has no qualms with pushing his way through the congested avenues. It might be rude, but it is a far cry from the worst thing he has ever done. He takes a right and a left and then another right before he finds where Han has hidden himself away – a cantina, of course, or rather, the alleyway behind a cantina. Ben can hear hushed voices from where he is and tucks himself in against the wall.

“ – the hell have you been, Vullen? I’ve got people waitin’ on me, ya know?” Han says, his tone thick with irritation.

“I apologize for my lateness, Solo.” Han’s companion says, their voice thick with an Utapese accent. “I was delayed, but I believe you said you would arrive alone?”

“Ain’t I alone right now?”

“… I suppose.” The being Ben assumes is a Pau’an agrees, their voice low.

“Listen, I really can’t waste anymore time. I’ve got the credits; you got the information I was asking for?” Han asks impatiently.

Ben wonders if he should make his presence known and break up this little meeting. He probably should, they really do need to get out of here as soon as possible, the longer they spend planet-side, the higher their chances of being spotted become. He doesn’t either way, part of him morbidly curious to see what his father has deemed so important.

“It was not easy to find – they prefer to remain hidden, your friends, especially these days.”

“They’re not _my_ friends.” Han grumbles.

“Whatever you say, Solo.” The Pau’an says with a deep sigh. “Here you are, the data that was promised.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Han says not sounding particularly thankful.

“And Solo?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m so glad you never watch your back.” The Pau’an says with grave finality. They call something out in their native tongue which Ben doesn’t understand. It hardly matters, Ben knows the implication without needing to recognize the words being spoken – it’s a trap.

With the sound of blaster fire already ringing out, Ben jumps from his hiding spot. He finds Han, blaster in hand, snarling at the wounded Pau’an on the ground, currently trying to scramble away from the enraged Solo. Han doesn’t see the blast coming straight for him, but Ben does.

“Look out!” He cries, his tone more frantic than he would have imagined. He reaches out without a second thought and stops the bolt of red, hot plasma mere seconds before it hits his father in the back.

Han whirls around and backs up clumsily as the frozen bolt nearly brushes his nose. He curses as he trips over the fallen alien, landing in a heap on the ground, his back against the ossic wall behind him. He watches with something close to awe as Ben sends the blaster bolt back towards its sender, hitting them square in the chest.

Ben turns his attention to the Pau’an who has tried to crawl away in the scuffle, but has not been able to make it far, wounded as they are. Their hands clutch at a bleeding blaster-wound on their right leg, the blue material of their robes singed around the injury. Their face contorts in pain, revealing sharp teeth, though that pain seems forgotten as they rise into the air, supported by only the invisible hands of the Force.

“Who are you working for?” Ben growls. He searches the area around them in the Force for more threats, but the coast seems to be clear, for now. “The Empire? Jabba?”

“It’s true that there are many bounties on Solo’s head, but I seek none of them. This was personal, I assure you.” The Pau’an responds, trying and failing to sound casual, their voice cracking with pain.

Ben can feel the Darkness, that inky substance that coats the insides of his veins. It urges him to wrap the Force around the alien’s throat, to choke the life from them. To reach into their mind and rip their memories away. To twist and rend until he has wrung every bit of truth from their mind. He resists.

“You’re lying.” He says, his voice low and gravely.

“Yeah, Vullen, I mean, what the hell did I ever do to you?” Han asks, picking himself up and brushing the dust and dirt from his jacket and pants.

“Balmorra,” Vullen responds plainly.

“Balmorra? What are you even…” Han begins but stops short. Ben can see the recognition cross his father’s face. “Oh, yeah… But what about the Charros deal? I thought we were square!” He finishes, sounding indignant.

“Oh, we are nowhere near even, Solo.” The Pau’an responds lowly.

“ _Who are you working with_?” Ben growls through clenched teeth.

“I’ve told you already, _no one_.” Vullen answers, having the audacity to seem annoyed by Ben’s line of questioning. “Both the Empire and Jabba want Solo _alive_ , I want him dead.” Vullen spits. “And good luck contacting your new rebel friends - I’ve heard Hoth was a massacre.” The Pau’an grins awfully, his attention solely on Han.

Ben’s stomach lurches anxiously at the mention of Hoth. A massacre? They’ve received no news from the Alliance since arriving on Dagobah, but with how _finicky_ the longrange comm system can be on the Falcon it is possible that they could have missed some crucial communique. This is something that he should have foreseen, but he hadn’t thought it an issue. He hadn’t expected the Empire to find Echo Base so quickly. Why? Because they hadn’t last time? He needs to stop thinking like that.

The muscles under Ben’s left eye twitch with tension and he tightens his grip on the alien who hisses in pain and no small amount of fear. He knows that they will be safer with Pau’an dead and he knows that snuffing the alien’s life force out would be all too easy. It would be nothing more than wrapping his influence around Vullen’s throat and closing his fits, crushing the being’s windpipe - but he doesn’t do that. Perhaps it’s weakness, or foolishness that insists on some form of mercy, or perhaps Ben feels that hands are already slick with too much blood. Either way, he doesn’t kill the alien, he doesn’t want to.

“You will forget everything about this encounter.” Ben says, his words laced with suggestion.

“I will… no,” Vullen closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Your mind tricks will not work on me, _Jedi_.”

 _I’m no Jedi_. An acidic voice spits back on pure instinct alone, rattling around in his head like an enraged curse. Ben forces that anger and fear down as he reaches into the Pau’an’s mind carefully, scanning for entry, weaknesses, an opening. When he finds one, he concentrates on that and pours more of the Force into his words.

“You will forget about this encounter entirely.” Ben says slowly. The alien’s black eyes gloss over in an instant. “You will have no memory of ever dealing with Han Solo.” He adds at the last moment before pulling away.

“I will forget about this encounter entirely and I will have no memory of ever dealing with Han Solo.” Vullen intones, their face blank, impassive.

Satisfied that the alien has been thoroughly ‘mind tricked’, Ben waves his hand over the Pua’an’s head, knocking them out with the Force. He turns on his heel to round on Han, anger overtaking the peace he had forced himself to find and the relief that he refuses to explore right now. He opens his mouth to speak, to shout, to say something, but Han beats him to it.

“Nice job, big guy.” He says with a cool smirk, as though he’d not nearly lost his life a moment ago. “Gotta say, that whole _Force_ thing seems like it comes in handy.” Han winks.

Ben breathes in and out once very slowly, seething, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. He grinds his teeth.

“Let’s get back to the ship.” He grounds out. He reaches out to grab Han’s sleeve but pulls his hand away at the last second. The last time he’d held his father’s arm, he was steadying the man as he drove his lightsaber through his chest. Ben’s hand shakes from the memory alone. He jerks his head violently in the direction of the _Falcon_ and sets off, looking back once only to ensure that Han is following him.

Ben does not stop as he enters the _Falcon_ , does not stop until he gets to the cockpit. He sinks into the passenger’s seat behind Han’s.

“Get us out of here.” He practically growls at the pilot who wanders in just a moment later.

Chewie’d gotten all of the pre-flight checks done while Han was off meeting with his would-be murderer, so they are able to take off without further delay. Ben knows that he can relax the moment they hit hyperspace, but his body doesn’t seem to get the memo. His fingers dig into the armrests of the chair he’s slumped in, shoulders set in a rigid line. Anger runs through him as fluid as the blood in his veins. It is old and familiar, the anger of a lonely son. It tastes bitter like broken promises and abandonment.

“What was all of that about?” Ben asks, trying to force his tone to remain calm and not quite succeeding

“Vullen and Chewie and I were all working this big weapon smuggling job on Balmorra a few years back. Things went sour, Chewie and I cut our losses and got out, Vullen and his crew didn’t… I thought I made it up to him by passing him a sweet deal on Charros about a year ago. Turns out he’s still mad.” Han answers flippantly earning a hearty laugh from the Wookiee.

Chewie responds that he told Han that Vullen was still angry with them and reminds the man that the last time the two of them saw the Pau’an they’d threatened to kill Han.

“I mean, lots of folks threaten that,” Han says with a laugh. “But very few actually try and go through with it – and no one’s succeeded so far.” He adds with a wink and Ben’s stomach plummets into the soles of his boots so quickly and violently he is sure he will be ill.

Chewie rumbles that Han doesn’t normally give them the opportunity. Han’s only response to that is a casual shrug.

“No,” Ben says slowly. “I don’t mean that, I mean - you couldn’t go _one_ trip without trying to make a few credits on the side? Is Organa not paying you enough?” He snaps, unable to contain it any longer.

Han swings the pilot’s seat around so that he is facing Ben fully. His father leans back and regards him with confused mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“ _Make_ a few credits?” He repeats, a humorless puff of laughter escaping him. He shakes his head. “I was _spending_ credits - my own, in fact. Credits I got back, by the way.” He adds, pointing at Chewie. “Trying to get information for _your_ people.”

“My _people_?”

“Yeah, well, ya know…” Han begins, suddenly sounding a bit awkward. “L - The princess has been trying to get ahold of the Alliance, but all of the comm signals have been jammed or closed for the past week or two. She asked me to try and find something out, see what’s goin’ on, so I contacted Vullen. I figure he hates the Hutts and the Empire as much as anyone else; thought he’d be safe to get in touch with - clearly I was wrong.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a datacard. “This information probably ain’t worth the card it’s printed on.”

“You were getting information on the Alliance?” Ben asks dumbly. Ben hadn’t even considered that, though it fits with his father’s track record of doing stupid things for the right reasons - rushing out on an icy Hoth night to save his friend from freezing to death, crash landing his ship on an enemy base, confronting his son…

“Yeah, well tryin’ to anyway.” Han shrugs again and runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks for your help back there, by the way, really saved my skin - way I figure it, we’re even now.”

Ben nods tersely, having nothing to say to that - nothing that would make sense to the other man, at least. He could tell Han the truth, the cold hard one that rests like a stone in the pit of Ben’s stomach, that they’re nowhere near even, that they never will be. He could tell Han that though he’d saved his life today he will only take it years from now. Ben doesn’t say any of that. Instead he says nothing.

* * *

Luke clambers into the pilot’s seat of the _Shadow_ , ignoring the guilt stirring in his stomach. Han will be back with the _Falcon_ in a day. He is not abandoning Leia and Ahsoka and Rey on this planet, and he's left them with most of the supplies, only keeping a few days’ worth of rations for himself. They will be fine. He does feel bad for taking Ben’s ship, but he promises himself that he will return it… one day.

Pre-flight checks are not easy to run on your own at the best of times, but they are especially hard when your dominant hand has been left in the mud just outside, but somehow, Luke manages.

He sits back only when the ship has hit hyperspace, blinking tears from his eyes. He cradles the stump of his right arm into his chest before tucking it into the front of his jumpsuit. He closes his eyes but they fly open at the sound of enraged beeping coming from behind him. He whirls his seat around.

“Artoo?” Luke gasps. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were…” Luke starts, but the droid doesn’t let him finish, beeping rapidly. Luke has been slowly picking up binary over the past couple of months, but his brain can’t translate quick enough. “Slow down, I can’t keep up, buddy.” R2D2 warbles something indignant before demanding that Luke return to Dagobah.

“No, Artoo.” Luke says grimly. “I can’t… I’m not going back – and don’t you try to re-route us on your own, I’ll be watching you.” He warns.

R2D2 rolls back and forth anxiously, before freezing, perhaps finally noticing Luke’s injured state. He warbles softly.

“I – no, it was… Listen, I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Luke says. R2D2 beeps sadly. “But you’re probably right, I should… take a look at this.”

He pulls his arm carefully out of its temporary sling and pulls back the singed material of his sleeve, hissing in pain as he goes. The adrenaline from his fight with Leia is wearing off and he is feeling the full impact of her blow now, and not just physically. He still can’t believe that she fought him, that she’d drawn her blade against him at all. He knows that she wouldn’t have killed him and suspects that she hadn’t meant to hurt him intentionally, but it hardly matters now.

Her strike was a clean one, straight through the wrist. The wound was cauterized by the hot plasma of the lightsaber’s blade, so luckily, he won’t bleed out at the very least. He stands weakly and makes his way over to the ship’s ‘fresher.

Mud and dirt and muck cover the charred skin on the end of his arm, and he realizes quickly that he should probably clean the wound before he wraps it. He turns the knob on the sink and sticks his handless wrist under the water. The tepid water is far too warm, and he cried out in agony as a renewed sense of burning washes over him. He waits for the water to cool more before sticking his injured arm back under the flow. The cold water relieves a bit of the pain, at least temporarily. He tries to scrub at the dirt caked onto the wound but the pressure of his fingers on the burned flesh is too much to take.

He pulls a roll of bandages out of a small first-aid kit on the wall, there’s no bacta unfortunately, but there is a small bottle of pain relieving pills so he grabs those as well before he sits down on the seat of the toilet and gets to work. He begins to awkwardly wrap the bandages over and around the area, something that is also much harder to do with only his non-dominant hand. Once that is done, he pops a couple of the pills into his mouth and swallows them dry.

He stumbles back out into the ship’s cockpit and stares at the controls. The coordinates he had set were random ones. According to the ship’s navcomputer, he’s headed towards somewhere just outside of Eriadu. Once he gets there, he’ll have to come up with an actual plan, a real and solid one – something more than just ‘steal a ship and get to my father.’ Luckily, he seems to have plenty of fuel.

He’s not even sure how to get in contact with his father. Can he just show up at an Imperial base and say, ‘ _Hi, I’m Lord Vader’s son, can you take me to him?_ ’ Surely not. He might be able to contact his father through the Force, but he hasn’t done that since the first night on Dagobah. Still, it can’t hurt to try – but maybe only after he gets some rest.

Luke crawls into the large bed in the captain’s quarters of the ship and curls up into himself. He can hear R2D2 beeping at him, desperate for his attention, pleading for Luke to talk to him, but Luke just can’t right now. He’ll be with his father soon and then… well, he’s not sure what will happen next, but he's still sure that he made the right choice.

He could never ‘confront’ his father as Master Yoda wants him to, could never fight him, _kill_ him – never. He won’t let Leia do that either. If she confronted their father, she would only be giving into her anger, into the Dark Side – can’t Master Yoda see that?

Is this what Old Ben had wanted for Luke? Is this why the old Jedi had watched over him all those years? Not simply to keep him safe, but to collect him when the time was right as a weapon to use against his own father? It doesn’t make sense. That’s not what Luke imagines a Jedi would do. Jedi help people. That’s what Rey had told him, but apparently, she’s less of a Jedi than she had led him to believe originally.

Luke wants to help people, wants to help his father, and he knows with a certainty that feels like the Force that he can – he’s just not sure _how_ quite yet. That’s a problem for another day. His body feels heavy, weighed down with exhaustion both physical and emotional. He closes his eyes and drifts off into a dreamless sleep for the first time since the Death Star.

* * *

Darth Vader had known the moment the _Devastator_ had arrived in the Hoth system that his children were not there. The rebels, however, were. He had attacked them with the full force of the Empire with the order to capture as much of high command as possible. It is a shame so much of the pitiful rebellion escaped, living to run and scramble and hide another day, but he will find them – they cannot run forever.

Those rebels that were captured did not have any information on where his children are being hidden. Vader had torn open their minds, searched every memory they possessed, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Useless, all of them – now useless and dead. He had returned to Mustafar directly after the attack on Hoth, intent on continuing his research and trying to reach out to his son.

He is surprised when it happens. He is meditating in his hyperbaric chamber when he feels something click into place, a familiarity washing over him.

 _Father_ , His son’s voice begins. Vader can feel the boy’s distress, though whether it is physical or merely emotional he cannot tell. _Where are you?_ Vader wastes no time in projecting the coordinates of his location. The connection closes immediately and Vader begins preparing for Luke’s imminent arrival.

He is not worried about the rebels using that information to find him. His fortress on Mustafar is no secret. Should they want to attack him here, they know where he is already, they would not need to use his son for such games. No, Luke is coming to him – finally. He had known the boy would see eventually. He only hopes that his daughter is with him as well.

A full standard day passes before his son pops into the atmosphere above the lava planet. Vader senses it instantly. He is filled with some warm emotion. He decides that it must be vindication, as he would never allow himself to feel anything softer.

He strides down to the starport in time to see a black Baudo-class star yacht descend shakily onto the landing platform. The gangway opens with a hiss and Luke stumbles out, his right arm tucked carefully into the open front of his jumpsuit. The stormtroopers flanking the starport all raise their weapons at the sight, surely believing Vader’s son to be concealing a weapon of some kind. Vader knows this is not the case.

Luke stumbles down the gangway, tripping over his own feet, his skin is sickly pale and as Vader draws nearer he can see the sweat beading on his son’s brow, light-colored hair sticking to his forehead in clumps. The temperature readouts in the lenses of Vader’s mask inform him that his son is running a high-grade fever. Vader orders the troopers to stand down as he makes his way over to Luke.

“Father,” Luke rasps weakly before crumpling to the ground in a heap.

It takes Vader only three long strides to reach his son. He scoops the boy up as gently as he is able, one arm slung under his knees the others supporting his shoulders. His son’s head lolls to the side, listlessly, his right arm falls out of where it had been tucked away to reveal a clumsily wrapped bandage – Luke’s hand having been cut off at the wrist. Vader quickly reigns in his rage, not wanting to harm his son further.

“You,” He turns to face a nearby personal assistant. “Send a medical droid to the guest quarters – but it is not to touch him until I give the word.” The assistant bows quickly before running off to complete Vader’s command.

Darkness and anger swirl around Vader in thick clouds. What have those rebels done to his son? As soon as Luke is well enough, he will tell Vader exactly who it was that _maimed_ him. When they encounter the terrorist scum next, Vader will take care of them personally.

His raging is cut short by the sight of a droid rolling down the gangway of Luke’s ship – a familiar droid. The silver and blue astromech is just as Vader remembers it. He’d assumed… well, he hadn’t given much thought to what became of R2D2 after his duel with Kenobi on Mustafar. How the droid had found his son is beyond Vader.

“Artoo?” He asks softly – too softly, though the harsh electronic rasp of his vocoder makes the sound harder and deeper. He takes a step towards the droid out of pure instinct alone, his son still held firmly in his grasp.

R2D2 stops short, perhaps in recognition, before racing forward, beeping a storm of angry-sounding expletives. A small taser pops out of the droid’s front and it brandishes the thing at Vader menacingly – or as menacingly as an astromech droid can brandish any weapon.

Vader stops abruptly. Something cold shifts inside of him. He does not care what the astromech thinks of him – it is nothing but a droid. It matters even less that it had once belonged to him as Anakin Skywalker, or that it had been given to him by… Vader turns, his cape whipping violently behind him. He must see to his son.

R2D2 follows Vader from a distance as he stalks away from the landing platform and towards the fortress proper. It warbles threateningly, demanding that Vader release the boy at once.

“He is wounded.” Vader says very plainly, surely the droid can see that. “His injuries must be seen to – and he is ill, likely an infection.”

The droid continues its assault, but Vader pays it no mind. The doors of Fortress Vader fly open at his command, at the slightest push of the Force. Vader whisks his son through the halls and towards the guest quarters and the room he had had prepared the moment he had known Luke was coming to him. He is aware that guest quarters are not even close to suitable living arrangements for the boy, but with time a more permanent residence can be set up.

A Med-droid wheels into the room but stops at Vader’s command. All of the medical droids he owns have been programed to inflict as much pain as possible to help Vader harness the Dark Side, but such torture is unnecessary for his son. He kneels in front of the droid, his joints protesting the action angrily – he ignores them. He reprograms the droid himself; he will have to be sure that no others are allowed in this room, or near his son at all.

Luke stirs where he lays on the bed, his head rolling to face Vader, his eyes opening slowly. He blinks several times as if taking in his surroundings, or perhaps adjusting to the dim light within the fortress. Vader wonders if additional lamps can be procured.

“Where am I?” The boy asks dazedly, his voice dry and cracking around the edges.

“In my fortress on Mustafar.” Vader explains, one hand deep in the innerworkings of the medical droid. “You’ve been injured and you are ill.” He stands, his work on the droid completed. The droid rolls over to Luke who shies away from it weakly. “This droid will treat you and fit you with a cybernetic hand.” One that fits, one covered with synthetic skin that blends seamlessly with his real flesh, not like the painfully tight ones attached to Vader’s body.

“My hand,” Luke rasps, lamenting the loss. Vader understands, he remembers losing his own hand well along with the loss of his other limbs. It is painful and shocking, he never felt quite whole after.

The medical droid slowly and carefully removes the bandaging from Luke’s arm, the cloth stained with sweat and dirt and blood. It reveals a clean cauterized slash through the wrist, clearly the work of a lightsaber – is Vader’s grandson the culprit? The skin around the charred wound is red and inflamed with infection, though, luckily, it has not had the chance to spread far.

Vader feels his son’s agony acutely, it flows from him undisturbed by shields or blocks. There is physical pain there, of course, but also deep emotional turmoil. Vader sends soothing sensations to his son through the Force hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort the boy is feeling.

Vader backs up as the medical droid begins its work, nearly bumping into R2D2 in the process. The astromech beeps curiously and looks at Vader in a way that he knows from all of the time they had spent together in a life long-lost, is assessing, confused. Vader’s hands ball into fists at his sides.

“Stay out of my way unless you wish to become scrap metal.” Vader snaps. R2D2 backs up quickly, but not without spouting nearly every curse he knows in the Sith Lord’s direction.

Vader watches Luke twitch fitfully at the medical droid’s ministrations before passing one hand smoothly over the boy’s head, lulling him into a peaceful, Force-induced sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke: "Hey Dad, drop your location"
> 
> Vader:  
> 
> 
> Luke and Darth Dad are _finally_ reunited! Did I mention that this story was always just a slow burn Dad Vader? No? 😂 My sister, who happens to be user [Skyguyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyguyy/pseuds/Skyguyy), has decided that the story is 'finally getting good.' ☠
> 
> Obviously, we've had a bit of a time jump on Luke and Vader's end of the story, but I haven't forgotten about the crew on Dagobah and the aftermath of the 'Duel of the Twins' on that end, we'll be seeing that next week for sure. I just thought the transition from Luke to Vader flowed a lot nicer and allowed me to keep up the dad-son theme of this chapter.
> 
> Speaking of dads and their sons, the Boy's Trip continues! Oh, Ben interacting with either of his parents is one of my very favorite things in the world, but there's just something special about him interacting with Han - it fuels me in a way I cannot describe. Blessed Benji is trying so hard to be a good boi even when his gf isn't around, isn't he? The guy deserves a break, doesn't he? Unfortunately I don't think he's gonna catch one for a while - he still doesn't know what went down on Dagobah. That's going to be fun!
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the kudos and bookmarks and comments - I genuinely love hearing from you all so much! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕
> 
> Thank you so, so much to user [DoodleBopMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodleBopMom/pseuds/DoodleBopMom) for this absolutely gorgeous piece of art! She has an AO3 of her own, so definitely go check it out! 💖


	26. Hot Tea and Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened?” Ahsoka asks.
> 
> “Where’s Ben’s ship?” Rey adds, her own saber falling to her side. Something like horror settles on her face. “Where is Luke?”
> 
> “Luke is gone.” Leia responds grimly, not allowing her voice to belay her true emotional state. She stands firm, her back straight, her shoulders squared. She balls her hands into tight fists to hide the way they are trembling. She is thankful for the thick sheets of rain that disguise the tears on her cheeks.
> 
> \---
> 
> The boy's trip continues and Han gives Ben some fatherly advice. Leia is feeling pretty bad. Rey and Ahsoka absolutely do not vibe with Yoda.

With only a few hours left in their journey Han wanders into the cockpit to find Ben there alone in the co-pilot’s seat, legs propped up on the dash. He toys with a small green stone and a bit of copper wire, coiling the wire around the rock delicately. Han is about to turn around and leave when Ben notices him, his lips tightening in a thin line, shoving his craft into his pocket quickly. He nods in a way that might be a gesture of welcome, or as close to that as Ben gets.

Han sighs before sinking down into the pilot’s seat, figuring he hasn’t got anywhere better to be. He realizes a second later when the other man’s shoulders tense, stiff as a board, that he might have misconstrued Ben’s ‘welcoming’ gesture. Perhaps the nod had been more of an ‘I’ve got it, you don’t have to stay, you can leave – _please_ leave’ sort of a thing? Han doesn’t leave either way. This is _his_ ship, after all. If Ben is so uncomfortable with his presence he can find somewhere else to brood.

“So, you seem pretty eager to get back to our marshy little ‘home base’.” Han says in an attempt to break the tension which hangs in the air as thickly as the humidity on Dagobah. The muscles in Ben’s jaw twitch. He stares at the lights of hyperspace whizzing by as though they have wronged him in some way, though in Han’s experience, Ben tends to look at just about everything that way.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like Dagobah, but…” Ben’s eyes soften as his words trail off into a small sigh.

“But you miss your girl.” Han says, finishing the thought for the poor besotted idiot, rolling his eyes as he does so.

If there’s one thing Han’s learned in his thirty-two years of life, through heart-wrenching trial and error, mind you, it’s that ‘love’ is a fool’s game. If anyone is living proof of that, it’s the lovesick sap sitting in the co-pilot’s chair beside him. The guy’s got his heart so twisted up over some girl that he’s actually eager to return that hellish swamp planet.

“Love,” Han says, blowing a puff of air out of his nose derisively. “Been there, done that. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, _trust me_.”

“You were in love before… Really?” Ben asks, genuine shock in his voice. Han isn’t sure if he should be offended or not. “I never knew.”

“Well, no.” Han agrees, quirking an eyebrow. “How could you? Never talked about it before.”

“I – what I mean is, I never would have guessed.”

“Well, I do have a heart, ya know?” Han scoffs.

It’s not for lack of trying, of course. Han’s heart has been ripped open before, has been left raw and bleeding by hands he’d been foolish enough to trust. With time those wounds became scars. He’s tried to spread those scars over his whole heart, to protect the sensitive muscle with hardened, dead flesh, though it’s never quite worked.

There had been plenty of women after Qi’ra. Han’s a healthy guy, and not too bad on the eyes in his own, personal opinion. He’d liked plenty of them, but never loved any of them. Love, to him, had looked like a threat, the end of a blaster pointed right at his head. Now, that traitorous heart supplies, it looks a little bit more like warm, brown eyes and a sharp tongue.

Han runs the calloused fingers of one hand through already ruffled hair. Leia’s fingers are soft, he already knows that for a fact. She’s a princess, after all, not an orphan from the streets of Corellia – and he’s got to stop thinking about her!

Han’s not a fool. She’s a princess, actually full-blooded royalty, and he’s a smuggler with a bounty on his head so large he’ll never pay it off in ten lifetimes. She also drives him completely crazy. Her words have a way of digging under his skin and living there for days on end, festering until he can get her back with a sharp barb of his own. Even if he _wanted_ it to, nothing between them could ever work, not really, no matter how beautiful she is or how his heart catches on the rare occasion she looks at him and isn’t scowling.

“Of course,” Ben says quickly, pulling Han out of his quickly spiraling and completely impossible thoughts about the princess. The man’s face takes on that wounded expression that Han can never quite figure out, like he’s said something that has cut Ben to his very core. “No offense intended.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Han replies flippantly, hoping to wipe the deep hurt he doesn’t understand from Ben’s eyes. It doesn’t quite work.

Ben stands and leaves the cockpit and Han sighs, rubbing one hand down his face. He doesn’t know how to act around the other man. He’s used to dealing with strange or otherwise out-of-sorts characters, it’s kinda part of the deal when it comes to his chosen profession. Still, he’s not sure he’s ever met someone as strange as this _Ben_.

Ben, who almost seems to actively avoid him, yet doesn’t seem to hate him; at least, no more than he seems to hate everyone else – everyone but that girl that he’s so devoted to. Ben, who stutters and stammers awkwardly half the times Han says anything to him.

Han had once been told that ‘people are predictable’, a nice little truth that has served him well enough over the years, but he thinks that Ben might be one of the least predictable people he’s ever met. So, he really shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when Ben returns only a few moments later, a bottle of Corellian whiskey in one hand and two tumblers in the other. He fills one glass before handing Han the bottle and second tumbler. Han eyes it, it’s the good stuff, the stuff he keeps in one of the hidden smuggling compartments in the main hallway.

“How’d you find this?” Han asks, half angry and half curious.

“The Force.” Ben answers quickly and blandly, sinking into the co-pilot’s chair before lifting his glass to his lips for a sip, his eyes trained on the white and blue lines of hyperspace whipping past the ship outside of the viewport. “You’re the one who said I needed a stiff drink.” He adds tightly.

“Huh,” Han huffs. “Seems like it would be pretty useful for smuggling – that _Force_ stuff.” He muses, pouring a bit of whiskey into his own glass. He sets the bottle on the floor between the two seats. “Ya know, I never even believed in that junk before I met you all. Seemed like a bunch ‘a fairytales to me.” He shrugs, taking a drink.

“Yeah, I know.” Ben says. “I mean, I could tell.”

They drink in silence for a while, which suits Han just fine. The only sounds that fill the space are the gentle hum of the engines and the clinking of glass on glass as they refill their tumblers. One of the screens on the front console, the one that shows approaching gravitational shadows, flickers and then dies. Before Han can react, Ben casually leans over, tumbler still in one hand, and turns the knob just to the right of the screen three times and then pulls on it hard. He taps the screen with one finger until the system flashes back to life.

“The _Force_ tell ya how to do that too?” Han grumbles amused and vaguely curious.

It hasn’t escaped his notice the way Ben and Rey seem to know the ins and outs of the _Falcon_ , all of its peculiarities. They’re never surprised when a system just seems to go kaput and always seem to know intuitively how to fix it. They’re never surprised by any of the modifications either, or the ship’s complete rewiring, which some – Chewie – have called confusing and haphazard and dangerous, though Han calls it _intuitive._ It’s something Han just can’t puzzle out, and he’s been trying to.

“Ah – no.” Ben says, leaning back in his chair slowly.

“So, what then?” Han chuckles, taking a drink. “You’re just some kind of ship genius on top of all that _Force stuff?_ ” Han wiggles the fingers of his free hand around in the air.

“My, uh, my father had a ship like the _Falcon_.” Ben says, his words stilted and hesitant. He downs the rest of his drink in one large gulp and bends over to grab the bottle again.

“A ship _like_ the _Falcon_?” Han barks out a dry laugh. “There isn’t another ship in the galaxy _like_ the _Falcon_.”

“No, you’re right about that.” Ben says, his eyes drifting around the cockpit with what might easily be confused for fondness.

Han assumes that what Ben means is that his father had YT 1300, which would make sense, it is a common ship model. Maybe his father had even made a few alterations to his own ship. Ease of modification is one of perks that drew folks to this particular make – especially folks who are fond of hidden smuggling compartments.

“So, your father,” Han begins trying to sound casual. He can see Ben physically cringe at the words out of the corner of his eye. “Was he a cargo hauler?”

“That’s one way to put it.” Ben grumbles into the rim of his glass before another large swig, his eyebrows raising quickly.

 _Ah,_ Han thinks, _so a smuggler then._ Something clicks into place in Han’s brain. Suddenly so many of his interactions with Ben make sense. The terse responses, the awkward half-conversations, the bizarre and angry accusation earlier. Honestly, he kind of resents the fact that Ben is clearly projecting his issues with his own father onto Han.

“I – I don’t want to talk about my father.”

“Don’t like to talk about family?” Han asks, nodding his head in understanding, even as he does so.

“No,”

“I never knew my family, not really.” Han says and then blinks dumbly down at the glass in his hand. The whiskey must be hitting him harder than he thought because he _never_ talks about his family, or rather, his lack thereof.

He has a couple of memories of his father, a blur of a man showing him the ships being built in a freighter factory back on Corellia. _My contributions to the galaxy, son_. He’d said. _Not that any of it matters, just a few lousy freighters._ Han forgot what his father looked like long ago and stopped caring about the man who abandoned him even before that. He shrugs dismissively in an attempt to throw off the emotion behind the admission.

“I used to,” Ben starts slowly, his eyes set heavily on the drink in his hands. “I used to think it would have been easier like that.”

Han barks out a short, bitter laugh – the sound seems to startle Ben who looks up with wide eyes, or maybe it’s just that he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Maybe the whiskey is hitting him harder than he’s expected as well.

“Easier? What, like I was lucky my old man ran out on me?” Han snorts derisively. “Your parents musta been pretty rotten if you think _I_ was lucky growing up on the streets of Corellia. I sure didn’t feel lucky – I was lucky to get out.”

Han looks Ben over. He _knows_ privilege when he sees it. He sees it in the way Ben holds himself, hears it in the way he speaks. The guy is an aristocrat through and through. Ben already looks thoroughly chastened, but Han continues anyway, the spirits loosening his tongue.

“To me, it looks like you were well fed and sheltered and educated, and maybe it seems like there’s more to life than that, but when no one’s around to make sure you have those things, they sure as hell seem like the only things in the galaxy that matter.”

“I didn’t mean…” Ben throws his head back with a low groan and runs one hand slowly down his face. “I _used_ to think that, now I...” He says softly, shaking his head, dark hair tumbling into his face. “It would have been easier for _them_ , at least.” He mutters, his voice sounding softer than Han’s ever heard it, his dark eyes cast to the floor of the cockpit.

Something softens in Han as he watches the man beside him down the rest of his glass. The poor guy always looks so sad and while Han is _sure_ that the aristocratic dolt has had an easier go of it than he did, he can’t help but feel bad for him just a little. Sure, maybe the big guy’s pain had been different from Han’s, but does that mean it didn’t hurt? Maybe Han’s just a sap when he drinks too much.

“Hey, now, I don’t know about that. You seem pretty alright to me.” He says with a laugh, an attempt to lighten the mood, though it seems to have the opposite effect entirely.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ben leans down and picks up the bottle again but does not pour himself another glass, he just holds it in his lap, his thumb running up and down the neck of it. “I have done terrible things.” He pulls one hand from the glass and holds it out, inspecting it grimly. Han wonders what Ben sees there that he cannot.

“Maybe,” Han shrugs. “Maybe you have – maybe I have. There’s a lot’a people out there in the galaxy that think I’ve done terrible things, more than think I done good, at least. I haven’t known you for very long, I’ll admit, so maybe what you’re sayin’ is true, but in the all the time since I met you all you’ve done is help people.”

“Not for the right reasons.” Ben says glumly.

“Who cares what your _reasons_ are?” Han laughs. “The people you helped sure as hell don’t, I’ll guarantee you that.” Ben says nothing to that, just stares quietly at the bottle in his hands. “You can’t change the past,” Han says. A puff of air escapes Ben and it sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Han ignores it and presses on. “Way I see it; you can learn from it or drown in it. So, you wanna change? Don’t mope about what you’ve already done, just change.”

Ben’s mouth is still set in a hard line, lips pressed so tightly together that they are going white around the edges. He looks up at Han, eyes shining with unshed tears and he smiles. It’s a small thing, but its real. Han’s not sure what to make of it, and all of this _emotion_ is making his skin itch with discomfort, but at least the guy doesn’t look like he’s about to throw himself out of the nearest airlock anymore.

“I think you’re right.” Ben says quietly, nodding. He sets the bottle down on the ground and leans back slightly in his seat. “I – Thank you, Han.”

* * *

Leia is glad that she is alone, that no one is around to see her, curled in on herself, crying uncontrollably as she is. She feels like she’s spinning, or maybe like everything around her is. She feels powerless, helpless, and as close to hopeless as she has ever been before. She feels like all of the light has left the world and she is the one that snuffed it out.

She is heavy, made of lead. The soft ground below her might pull her down, make her a permanent part of the mud and muck, of this awful, disgusting planet. She might let it. Some part of her welcomes it, insisting it is where she belongs.

Something cold and electric and sharp creeps along her bones, digs at her heart. _You were right_. A voice in her head whispers. It sounds enough like her own that she is sure it must be. _He betrayed you - he made you fight him. He forced your hand. You didn’t want this_.

She didn’t, Leia didn’t want any of this. She didn’t want to fight her brother, didn’t want to harm him, didn’t want to be sent away from the Rebel Alliance, didn’t want to become a _Jedi_. When did she lose so much control of her own life? When did she give it up?

She had understood her father’s reasoning in sending her to Dagobah. She had been content in the fact that, as a target of Vader, she would be protecting the Alliance by staying away. She had just begun to understand why she was being trained in the Force - to one day confront Vader. It made sense, it was a real, solid plan, one that would see the galaxy better off in the end - but now? Leia doesn’t understand anything.

She’s heard nothing but radio silence from the Alliance for weeks now, even her father’s personal comm lines are quiet, and she’s sure that _something_ has happened. Luke has gone to Vader and she is certain, dreadfully, unyieldingly certain, that he will die by Vader’s hand or be turned by it. If Vader does turn Luke, she will have to fight him as well. She sees no other possibilities, no other futures.

“Surrounds you, the Dark Side does.” Leia’s head snaps up at the sound of Yoda’s voice. “Resist it, you must.”

“What?” Leia asks, standing sharply. She winces as she tries to put weight on her twisted ankle.

“Drawn in by your anger, your fear, your hatred it is.” Yoda says gravely. “You must let go of those emotions, lead you down a dark path, they will.”

Before Leia can respond, something incredulous stirring in her at the idea that though Luke was the one to run off to Vader, Master Yoda is worried about _her_ falling to the Dark Side, Ahsoka tears through the brush and into the clearing followed closely by Rey. The Togruta’s eyes are wide and wild, her lightsabers burning a bright white by her sides. She surveys the clearing quickly, searching for a threat that is simply not there.

“What happened?” Ahsoka asks.

“Where’s Ben’s ship?” Rey adds, her own saber falling to her side. Something like horror settles on her face. “Where is Luke?”

“Luke is gone.” Leia responds grimly, not allowing her voice to belay her true emotional state. She stands firm, her back straight, her shoulders squared. She balls her hands into tight fists to hide the way they are trembling. She is thankful for the thick sheets of rain that disguise the tears on her cheeks.

“Gone?” Ahsoka gasps. Rey says nothing, though she flinches at Leia’s words.

“Gone to Vader, he has.” Yoda says.

“No,” Ahsoka says solemnly, her lightsabers flicking off, her shoulders slumping. “No,” She repeats, as though her denial with revert the truth of Yoda’s statement.

“He thinks he can help him.” Leia explains slowly, willing her voice to remain steady. The storm above still rages, pouring water in thick sheets over their heads. It shows no signs of letting up soon. “I tried to stop him, I tried, but I…” Suddenly she can’t get the words out, all sound blocked by a quickly forming lump in her throat.

Leia wants to run, to hide, and she is so deeply ashamed of that cowardice and of this outpouring of emotion that she just cannot get control of. She wishes she could feel the anger Yoda had warned her to let go of. Anger has always been such a simple thing for Leia to grasp onto. It is an emotion that serves a purpose. Anger has always been an easy fuel, a motivator, an energy she can channel, something that keeps her head clear and her path straight. She doesn’t feel that anger now. All she feels is pointless, useless misery.

“Leia,” Rey says softly.

The girl approaches and pulls Leia into an embrace. Leia wants to push her off, to insist that she is _fine_ , that they have more important things to worry about than how miserable she is, but only a wordless wail escape her. She wraps her arms around Rey and begins to sob again in earnest.

“I hurt him,” Leia cries. “I didn’t - I didn’t want to, but I -” Another pitiful sob wracks her. She is actually shaking in Rey’s arms and it is so _embarrassing_. “We need to leave; we can’t stay here.”

“Everything is going to be alright.” Rey assures her soothingly, but Leia keeps crying because she simply doesn’t see how that can be true.

* * *

Ahsoka helps Leia and Rey set up a small, temporary shelter along the tree line of the clearing out of fallen branches and thick pieces of bark. According to Master Yoda, the rainy season is just beginning, so even though the skies have cleared for now the storms will start up again sooner rather than later and they will be thankful for even a makeshift roof above their heads when night falls.

Silence falls over the group as they work. It is heavy and tense. Leia is especially quiet, nibbling at her ration bar without complaint before curling up on one of the beds of leaves they have set up under the shelter. Ahsoka waits until Leia has fallen asleep before she and Rey sneak off to Master Yoda’s hut. She would prefer to stay close to the girl, to watch her, but Leia cannot be around for the conversation they need to have. She will have to trust that Leia will stay asleep. At least there are no more ships around to steal.

“Leia is right, we need to leave as soon as possible. If Luke really has gone to Vader, we’re not safe here.” Ahsoka begins once she and Rey have crowded into the old Jedi Master’s hut. He hands each of them a cup of tea brewed from some of the planet’s leaves and roots. The taste is not something Ahsoka particularly enjoys, it is too bitter, but it fills her with much-needed warmth so she drinks it gladly.

“I’m not sure Luke would tell Vader where we are.” Rey says taking a sip from her own cup.

“He might not have a choice.” Ahsoka responds grimly. Rey opens her mouth as if to say something but seems to think better of it at the last moment and frowns into her cup instead.

“Tell them, Bail should not have, of their relation to Vader.” Yoda says solemnly. “Ready, they were not, to learn this.”

“What are you saying?” Rey’s attention snaps to the Jedi Master, fire in her eyes. “That you would have kept it from them? When would they have been ready?”

“When complete their training was.” Yoda responds plainly. “After they had faced him, then, would they be ready.”

“Faced him?” Ahsoka asks, her cup freezing mid-sip. “What do you mean, ‘after they’d faced him’? You were going to send them after Vader, after their own – is _that_ what we are training them for?” She asks, unable to mask the horror settling over her. She sets the cup down roughly on a small, nearby table, tea spilling over the sides.

“Face him they must. Their destiny, it is, to bring balance to the Force, to…”

“Wait a second!” Ahsoka interrupts, throwing one hand out in front of her. “Their _destiny_? You think that one of them is – I thought that _Anakin_ was the ‘Chosen One’?”

“Misread, the prophecy must have been.” Yoda responds simply.

“Oh, but you’re so sure now?” A laugh escapes her, though she finds none of this funny in the least. “So is it Luke or Leia – or is it both?” She asks, her voice going a little shrill. “Maybe it has always been the ‘Chosen _Two_ ’? Huh?”

“Never clear, these things are.” Yoda responds looking away from Ahsoka, perhaps looking out of the small, rounded window of his hut and towards the night outside. It has already begun to rain again.

“You know, Anakin wanted to leave the Order – maybe if he had he…” But Ahsoka can’t finish that line of thought, it is too painful. “He stayed because he was the ‘Chosen One’, because that’s what you told him, what you _all_ told him over and over…”

“Blame the Order, you do, for Anakin’s fall?” Yoda asks curiously, his tone too light in Ahsoka’s opinion.

“You don’t?”

“Never said that, did I.” He responds lowly. “But perhaps more blame, should you lay, at Anakin’s feet – at Vader’s.”

“Anakin isn’t what this is about – or, he is, but…” Ahsoka growls, frustrated. “You were going to send Luke and Leia after their own father. When were you going to tell them?”

“Earlier today, I did.”

“That’s why Luke left.” Rey says solemnly. “He’s been so worried about Vader. He’s spoken to me about wanting to help him like I – I should have kept a closer eye on him, I –”

“This isn’t your fault, Rey.” Ahsoka says softly, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Rey doesn’t meet her eyes, her focus trained on the contents of the cup in her hands.

“Too attached to Vader, he has become.” Yoda says with a sigh, shaking his head.

“Of course he’s attached! That’s his _father_!” Rey says, raising her voice. “You were never going to tell him at all!” She accuses, tea sloshing over her hands as they shake angrily. “You were just going to use him to – to –”

“Use him,” Yoda snorts, turning his attention to a pot of simmering _something_ hanging in his fireplace. “Tools of the Force, we are.” He says plainly, stirring the greenish-brown liquid once and then twice.

“He’s a _person_.” Rey says, stressing the last word.

“More than that, must a Jedi be,” Yoda says setting the spoon down on the rim of the pot. “And less.”

“Luke was right about you,” Rey says so softly Ahsoka almost doesn’t hear her over the crackling of the fire in Yoda’s hearth. “About the Jedi.”

“What?” Ahsoka asks, turning her attention to the girl.

“When I went to train with Luke.” She begins grimly, her eyes focused on the cup in her hands and nothing else. “He gave me three lessons, only three – all about why the Jedi had to end. He said that they were arrogant and hypocritical, that they thought they owned the Force. He said that they were more concerned with keeping the status quo than with actually helping those in need. When he came back, when he saved my friends from –” She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “I thought that he had changed his mind, that he had realized he was wrong, that he was the greatest Jedi who ever lived. _I_ was wrong. He was more than a Jedi. He was a hero.”

“Hero,” Yoda says and hums dismissively. “Seek such grand titles, a Jedi does not.”

“No, Luke wasn’t seeking a title or glory – he was just… doing the right thing! That’s what I thought being a Jedi was about, I thought...” Rey sets her cup down on the table next to her gently. “I was wrong.” She shakes her head before standing as much as she possibly can in the small space. “Maybe Ben and Luke were right,” She says with a bitter sounding little laugh. “Maybe it is time for it all to end – or, I don’t know… I need to go. Goodnight.” She says, one hand already on the frame of Yoda’s small doorway.

“Too old,” Master Yoda hums a short time after Rey leaves. “Too old for training.” He shakes his head, resting both hands on the knot at the top of his gimer stick. “All of them are, I fear.”

“Too old,” Ahsoka repeats sourly. “That’s what you’re worried about.”

“Agree with her, you do?”

“I – I do,” Ahsoka agrees hesitantly. “With parts of what she said, at least. I thought I knew why I was here, what I was doing, but now?”

“What is it, you thought?”

“I –” Ahsoka begins but doesn’t finish, she can’t. Why had she thought she was here? “Not that I would be training Luke and Leia so that you could send them off to kill their own father.” She says and it is only mostly true. Some part of her has to have suspected that this was the end-goal for their training. What else could it have been for? “I know what he is now, but he’s still…”

“Anakin?”

“No,” She says, her tone low with warning. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Sure about that, you are?”

“I’m done.” Ahsoka says abruptly. She stands as much as she can, the tips of her montrals brushing the low, curved ceiling. “With all of this.”

She storms into the night, rain falling gently around her. She shivers though she is not cold as she makes her way back towards the camp. She finds Leia still fast asleep and Rey curled up in one corner facing a wall of branches. Rey, she can sense, is not asleep at all, but neither of them speak. Ahsoka isn’t quite sure what either of them could say at this point.

She finds no rest in sleep that night and it has nothing to do with the sodden ground beneath the thin piles of leaves she’d made up for her bed or the rainwater dripping on her face from the leaky hand-crafted ceiling. It is the voice she hears whispered just behind her ear that keeps her awake.

“ _Ahsoka_ ,” It is a voice she recognizes. The one that is not Anakin’s or Vader’s, but a combination of both. The one that confronts her with the fact that her master is not gone, not truly, he’s just changed so much that he might as well be.

“ _Are you going to keep working with Leia?_ ”

“ _Why don’t you just give up_?”

“ _Don’t you think you’ve failed enough Skywalkers?_ ”

With her eyes closed she can see the cracked mask and the man beneath, the one who is so undeniably Anakin and yet… She gives up on pretending to sleep as the first light of dawn paints the sky above the palest silver. There’s no rain coming down now, but she can feel in her bones with electric certainty that it will come back.

She rifles through the crates of supplies Luke left behind – there’s nothing but ration bars, so that will have to do yet again. She seats herself on top of a crate and eats slowly, languidly, tiredly. Her mind and body are exhausted, though the real weariness she feels is an emotional one. _Don’t you think you’ve failed enough Skywalkers_? Rings through her head on repeat, a terrible chorus. She has, she knows.

When Rey wakes she perches herself on a crate next to Ahsoka. Neither of them speak and nothing is said as Leia wakes an hour later. The three women stare at the sky, waiting. The _Falcon_ breaks through the trees and lowers itself into the clearing. The ramp lowers and Ben is already stomping down it the moment it hits the ground. He looks around the clearing, one hand held across his brow to block the sunlight shining through the trees, frowning deeply. He looks directly at Ahsoka.

“What the hell happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben, Ahsoka, and Rey in this chapter: 
> 
> I'll be honest with you all, I really struggled with this chapter a lot! It is a very emotional one and one that hits a lot of important points for almost all of the characters involved in this story. So I've been tweaking with it non-stop in an attempt to make it completely perfect. 🥴 I really wanted to hit all of the emotional points I was aiming for while also keeping everyone in character. I hope I was able to accomplish at least some semblance of that! 😂
> 
> I'm not sure if the 'take' on the Jedi during Ahsoka's POV is hot or cold or even a take at all. 😂 Ahsoka and Rey's opinions on the Jedi do not necessarily reflect my own perfectly, but I have always thought that Yoda and Obi Wan's plans for Luke to take on Vader were, like, really messed up. Especially with Obi Wan seemingly sacrificing himself in ANH to give Luke the motivation to want to off Vader later on - though, perhaps I have simply grossly misread that scene. Like, guys, revenge is not the way of the Jedi - Vader said so himself! Oh well! 🐳
> 
> Anyway, thanks as always for the kudos and bookmarks and comments. I always love hearing what you all have to say! 💖 Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	27. I Wanna Get Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been trying to come to terms with the fact that we may never be sent home, though I hope we are, for Rey’s sake if not my own.”
> 
> “Oh?”
> 
> “She had – has friends, and I know she misses them.” Ben says and it stirs a sense of guilt in him that he can’t quite place.
> 
> “And you don’t have anything waiting for you back in your own time?” 
> 
> \---
> 
> Ben and Rey are reunited, Ben and Ahsoka talk about healing, Luke wakes up at his dad's house, and Leia and Han discuss the group's next moves.

Rey feels it the moment the _Falcon_ pops out of hyperspace. The buzzing at the base of her skull clears, her connection to Ben becoming solid once more. Almost instantly, that fuzzy sensation is replaced by a dull, throbbing pain behind her eyes. Rey rubs at her temple with one hand, unsure what, exactly, the source of this discomfort is - exhaustion?

“They’re here.” Rey says to Leia and Ahsoka, only the latter of whom acknowledges her with a short nod. Rey downs the packet of purified water next to her, chugging whatever liquid is left, her mouth suddenly very dry. She looks up towards the sky but winces, the sun too bright even through the canopy of leaves above.

 _Rey_ , She can’t help but smile at the warmth of Ben’s voice ringing through her mind, his tone changes quickly though. _What’s wrong_?

 _I’ll tell you when you land._ She responds. She’s not quite sure how to tell him everything that’s happened in the past few hours, but she knows that she would rather do so face-to-face. She feels his uncomfortable acceptance through their bond.

The quiet, thumping pain in her head grows stronger as she feels the _Falcon_ draw nearer. Sounds and light are sharper, uncomfortable, and she feels vaguely nauseous.

 _Are you ill_? She sends to Ben, closing her eyes against the sunlight assaulting her eyes which only seems to intensify the agony of her headache. She feels embarrassment, shock, and no small amount of concern pour from Ben’s end of the bond.

 _No, I’m not._ He answers hesitantly. _You can feel that?_

 _Yes_ , She responds, stressing the word, though now she is a bit worried herself. Is he injured?

 _I’m fine, don’t worry_. - _I’m sorry._ He sounds a little sheepish, even in her head.

She, Ahsoka, and Leia watch the _Millennium Falcon_ descend into the clearing, the sublight engines blowing back the branches of nearby trees, scattering soggy leaves. Rey presses her hands to her ears, the sound of the ship landing too much for the pain stabbing at her skull. Ben is striding down the ramp the moment it hits the sodden ground below. He braces one hand against his forehead to block out the light above as he takes in the scene. Rey wonders how the three of them must look, tired and sad, perched up on top of the crates of supplies Luke left behind. Ben’s attention shifts to Ahsoka.

“What the hell happened?” He asks, his voice gravely but quiet.

“Luke is gone.” Rey says, answering before the other two can. She doesn’t want to give either of them the opportunity to take the blame for what had happened, not when she feels so strongly that she could have prevented it.

If only she’d been more open with Luke. If only she had explained what really happened between her and Ben, perhaps he wouldn’t have left the way he had. She doesn’t regret going to Ben on the _Supremacy_ , even if it hadn’t gone the way she’d hoped at the time. She hopes that things go better for Luke, though she has a hard time imagining they will.

Rey stands, her tired muscles protesting her every step of the way. She hadn’t slept much last night - if, indeed, she had slept at all - she imagines she is not alone in that.

“He’s gone to Vader,” She explains drawing nearer. Ben doesn’t seem particularly surprised by the revelation, perhaps resigned. He closes his eyes and sighs, one hand rising, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He nods his head once in understanding; his dark eyes open and flick back to Leia.

 _Is my mother alright_? He questions. Rey’s approach falters for just a moment, her feet refusing to obey her for a single second. Has she ever heard Ben refer to Leia as his mother? She’s not sure.

 _No_ , Rey answers honestly, looking back at the girl in question, but turns her attention back to Ben when Leia’s eyes flit over to meet hers. _She tried to stop him - they fought. She cut off his hand, Ben._ Ben blinks silently, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. _I’m worried about her - about both of them_.

Ben wraps his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. He breathes deeply and she can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against her own. She feels something soothing and warm relax over her, coving her like a blanket. It takes her a moment to realize it is coming from Ben. Beyond the soothing sensation she can feel anxiety, worry, sorrow, but all of that is dulled in comparison to the quiet calm emanating from him, the relief they both feel at being together again.

“Okay,” She feels the word rumble through him rather than hears it, he speaks so softly. “It’s okay.” He punctuates the statement with a quick kiss to the top of her head. Rey relaxes into his warmth; she can hear the steady thrum of his heart beating in time with her own. “We’ll figure it out.” His tone is so solid, so resolute, she can’t help but believe him.

“This is sweet,” Ahsoka’s voice calls out from behind them. Rey pulls away from Ben’s embrace to face her. “But we should start packing this stuff into the ship.” Ahsoka gestures a hand at the crates beside her. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“We’re leaving?” Ben asks.

“We can’t stay here.” Ahskoa says with finality. Rey hears what Ahsoka _doesn’t_ say, that she won’t stay any longer, not that Rey particularly disagrees with the sentiment. Ahsoka leans and picks up a crate with both hands and begins walking towards the open ramp of the _Falcon_ , a second box trails behind her, buoyed by the Force.

“No, I suppose not.” Ben agrees slowly. “Where are we going?”

Ahsoka pauses, turning her neck to face Ben. She sighs.

“I don’t know yet. We’ll –” She shakes her head.

“We’ll contact the Alliance.” Leia says firmly. The sound of her voice nearly startles Rey out of her skin. “I haven’t been able to for the past couple of weeks, but Han managed to make contact with a friend outside who agreed to help us.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but Han’s friend was rather less friendly than he had anticipated.” Ben says. Leia’s mouth sets into a tight line.

“Where _is_ Han? I want to see if he managed to get _any_ information on the Alliance from his contact at all.”

“He’s inside… resting, but I was with him when he met this – _friend_.” He answers slowly. “All we learned was that there was some kind of… altercation on Echo Base. His contact said it was a – a massacre.” He finishes, sounding hesitant. Leia’s face falls for only a moment before settling back into solid confidence.

“Well, never mind that then. We’ll find some other way to...” She begins, resolutely but trails off, shaking her head. “I know the location of a few minor bases – Primtara, Reamma, Crait –” Rey feels Ben stiffen beside her. “We can try those. At the very least, there may be some way to contact the rest of the Alliance there.” She places her hands on her hips and looks between Ben, Rey and Ahsoka in turn, continuing when none of them say anything. “We need to warn them about Luke’s turn, about what information he may have given to Vader.”

“She’s,” Ahsoka starts with a sigh. “She’s not wrong. I have my own contacts as well.” She readjusts the crate in her arms, her gaze turning to the tree line near Yoda’s hut. “Like I said, we should get going.” She heads up the ramp, disappearing into the _Falcon_.

“Leia, are you alright?” Rey asks, drawing closer to the princess. Leia looks up at her and for a quick moment something angry flashes in her eyes before they revert to their normal steely determination.

“Yes, yes.” She says, looking away and flipping her hand in a dismissive gesture, one Rey is all too familiar with. “Please, we have bigger things to worry about than – I’m fine.” She assures, furrowing her brow before looking up at Ben. “Don’t look at me like that.” She warns, pointing one finger sharply in his direction. “Now, come on. I very much doubt we have time to just stand around here all day.” She leans down to pick up a small crate and heads off towards the ship without another word.

Rey lifts her hand and places the back of it against Ben’s forehead as Rose had done once for her when she’d gotten ill a few moths ago back on the Resistance base. She’d explained that it was a way of checking Rey’s temperature. Ben feels fine, she thinks, his skin doesn’t feel too warm – perhaps she’s doing it wrong? Ben wraps his hand around her wrist and lowers it slightly.

“I’m not sick, Rey.” He says, his face flushing and she’s not entirely sure he’s telling the truth because that is one sign of a fever – or sun poisoning, though that would be unlikely… “I… had a bit too much to drink last night.” He explains, rubbing one of his hands on the back of his neck.

“You’re hungover,” Rey says slowly in realization. If it’s possible, Ben’s face grows a deeper shade of red.

She never drank much on Jakku. Alcohol wasn’t something she had much access to. Sure, there had been a cantina in Niima Outpost, and some scavengers would sell homebrew for extra scrap or water or portions, but Rey had always seen that particular vice as a waste of far more precious resources. After learning what had happened with her parents, when she remembered what they had done – well, she hadn’t had much interest in drinking even after gaining easier access on the Resistance base.

She’s seen hangovers though. Resistance pilots and fighters will bust out the ‘good’ whiskey – though none of what they have is actually particularly good, according to Poe – to celebrate small victories or to mourn their losses. She’s seen them the morning after such occasions, groggy, irritable, complaining of their aching heads. So, though she’s never experienced a hangover herself, before now, that is, she understands the concept.

“I’m sorry, Rey – I didn’t realize you would feel this. I thought – I thought that it might make it easier to speak with… him.” He explains with an apologetic grimace.

“Did it?”

“A little, actually.” The corner of his mouth twitches upwards in a way that surprises Rey. “I am sorry though. I don’t drink often. I suppose I didn’t quite know my limit.” He smiles bashfully. Rey presses up on her toes and kisses his cheek lightly.

“Its fine, Ben.” She assures him.

It hasn’t escaped her notice how he’s forgone a drink every time Han has brought out a bottle to pass around the bonfire at night. He’s told her that he is simply not interested, and while she believes that to some extent, she’s also suspected that he’s refused the offers with her in mind.

“We have some pain medicine, I think. I’ll take some of that. Perhaps it will help us both feel better.”

Ben lifts one of the larger crates and hauls it off in the direction of the ship. She smiles watching him go, relieved that he is back, relieved to feel that piece of herself that belongs to him slide back into place.

She is leaning over to pick up a crate of her own to carry into the _Falcon_ when she spies Master Yoda in the tree line, watching her, or, perhaps watching them all leave. She stands up and frowns. Is he upset with them for leaving? Does he understand why? After the way their conversation last night had gone, she can’t imagine that he does. Still, she feels compelled to talk to him, to say… _something_. Her legs are moving in his direction before she even registers the decision to approach him.

“You’re not coming with us.” She says and she’s not sure if it is a question or not. She’s not certain he would want to go with them, even if he were invited.

“No,” He agrees, shaking his head. “Old I am, and run any longer, I cannot.” He adjusts his grip on his gimer stick slightly. Rey feels a pang of… something in her chest, something sad and cold. “A long time to think, have I had, on the failures of the Jedi. Many failures, yes, many of them my own.” He hums sadly. “But time for the Jedi to end, it is not.”

He stares off behind her at the group packing up the _Falcon_ , at Ben and Ahsoka and Leia. Han and Chewie have joined them as well now. Master Yoda sighs.

“A future, there still is, but perhaps – change is needed.” He turns his eyes on her. “Afraid to change, we were, and cost us, those fears did. Lose sight of much, did we, yes, of compassion and of peace. Learn from our failures.”

Rey doesn’t know what to say. She presses her lips together tightly.

“Seen much of the future, I have. Dark, it is, yes, very Dark.” He shakes his head, his tone grave. “Lead the future into the Light, you must,” He inclines his head at the group behind her. “Must you all.”

Rey opens her mouth, but no words come out. She’s not sure what to say to the old Jedi master. The emotions flooding her are complicated and confused and she’s not sure she could piece them together if she tried. Her first Jedi master had been convinced the Jedi should die with him, her second master had never completed her own training, and Master Yoda had let her down, had disillusioned her to the heroes she had so desperately wanted to believe the Jedi of old were.

She should have known better. She’s met a lot of heroes in a very short amount of time, and she’s learned that under the myth, behind the legends, and beneath the stories, they’re just people – people like her. Ones that love and hurt and sometimes hurt the ones they love. They’re fallible, they make mistakes, they fail – but people don’t need to be perfect to bring Light into the world. They weren’t perfect and neither is she, and maybe that’s okay.

“I will, Master Yoda.” She says softly, inclining her head slightly. “We will.”

“May the Force be with you.” He says turning around, heading back in the direction of his hut. “May it be with us all.”

* * *

A few hours into their journey Ben finds himself alone in the _Falcon_ ’s lounge. Rey is in the crew quarters sleeping off the lingering effects of _his_ hangover – something he is still quite embarrassed about – Leia and Ahsoka are either in there sleeping as well or in the cockpit or one of the holds. He’s not quite sure _where_ they are but is content in the fact that so long as they are all trapped in the ship they can’t get away.

He sighs, setting his lightsaber hilt down on the holoboard with a loud thunk. He just looks at it quietly for a moment. He can feel the crystal inside, can feel its pain, the pain he caused it when he tried to bleed it so many years ago. He taps his thumb against the table, his lips pressed tightly together. He knows what he wants to do, but he’s not sure that he can, if it is possible for someone like him to do.

“Hey,” Ben looks up in the direction of Ahsoka’s voice. She leans against the threshold of the main corridor, arms crossed over her chest. He nods once in greeting and she crosses the room to sit across the holoboard from him. She sighs. “I’m sorry we didn’t get more answers about why you’re here – about how to send you home.”

“That’s… alright,” He says tightly, not sure if it’s true or not. “I’m not entirely confident there _are_ answers to those particular mysteries at this point.”

“There’s somewhere I’d like to take you two – whenever we have the chance.” Ahsoka adds quickly, though neither of them sure _when_ exactly that might be. “It’s an ancient place, a world between worlds – I think. I don’t quite understand it yet, but it could be the key to sending you home.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. He wonders why Ahsoka has not brought this place up before now but doesn’t question it.

“That would be – good.” He says, struggling to find the right word to describe how ‘going home’ makes him feel. ‘Good’ is decidedly _not_ the right word, but he doesn’t know a word for the strange mixture of relief and wariness churning inside of him at the thought, and ‘anxiety-inducing’ hardly seems like the right thing to say. “I’ve been trying to come to terms with the fact that we may never be sent home, though I hope we are, for Rey’s sake if not my own.”

“Oh?”

“She had – has friends, and I know she misses them.” Ben says and it stirs a sense of guilt in him that he can’t quite place.

“And you don’t have anything waiting for you back in your own time?”

“I –” Ben begins but stops short, unsure of how to answer that. How can he say that the entirety of the galaxy is waiting for him? How can he express how little he looks forward to returning to it? “I do, but it doesn’t feel right anymore.”

“I understand.” Ahskoa says and Ben senses that she truly does. “That’s… that’s how I felt when I left the Order.”

“Why did you?” Ben asks quietly, his curiosity piqued. He’s never known anyone to have left the Jedi but himself, and at the time it had hardly felt as though he’d had much of a choice in the matter.

“It’s a long story.” Ahsoka says with a small, rueful laugh. “I was accused of a crime and the Order turned their backs on me, all of them – all of them but Anakin.” She adds morosely, a sad little smile spreading across her face. “Anakin and Padmé are the only ones who believed in me.” Her smile falls in an instant, her eyes misting quickly. “I tell myself that he’s not Anakin, not anymore, not really, but I - I know that’s not true.” Ahsoka squeezes her eyes shut, one lone tear snaking down her cheek. “It’s just… easier that way, to pretend he’s gone, that he’s dead.”

“It’s easier for him that way too.” Ben says somberly.

“He was my - ” Her voice breaks painfully over the words. “He was my best friend, my brother - the closest thing I had to a family and I - I _failed_ him.”

“He was your master. How did you fail him?”

“When I left the Order, he asked me to stay, he wanted me to – I could see how much it hurt him that I was leaving, but I… I was so _selfish_! What if I stayed? If I never left, I could have helped him, maybe he never would have…” She doesn’t finish the thought, though Ben knows very well where it was headed. Her face screws up in pain, she wraps her arms around her chest to protect her heart from that impossible reality.

“It doesn’t do you any good to dwell on ‘what ifs’.” Ben offers, his voice low. What if he hadn’t sought out Snoke after Luke attacked him? What if he had gone home instead? What if he had thrown his lightsaber into the dark chasm on Starkiller Base instead of his father? What if he had taken Rey’s offer of help aboard the _Supremacy_ , had ordered the ship to stop firing on the Resistance, had left with her? What if… “You’ll destroy yourself like that.”

“I know that,” Ahsoka agrees, nodding her head slowly. She sniffs, wiping the lingering tears from her face with the heels of her hands. “I do. It’s been such a long time. I should have come to terms with it by now, but Luke leaving… it’s like it’s all fresh again.”

“Luke isn’t going to turn,” Ben says quietly, not meeting Ahsoka’s eyes. “I don’t believe that.” He sighs, closing his eyes. “I _know_ Luke – and this was always supposed to happen. It’s a little early, but…”

“It was?”

“Yes,” He agrees. “I don’t know what happens from here, and so much has changed or not gone the way I expected it to, but that… Luke was always going to go to his father, was always going to see the good in him.” He adds a little bitterly.

“I don’t know how to believe that there’s still good in him.” Askoka says darkly. “Not after what I’ve seen. I don’t know how to believe that he’s not too far gone.”

“I tried to learn so much from my grandfather, but it was all… wrong.” He shakes his head. “I always rejected the one lesson I really should have taken – that no one is too far gone.” He presses his lips together tightly into an uncomfortable semblance of a smile.

Ahsoka stares at him, the hope and awe on her face is so open and raw he has to look away. She takes a shaky breath, breaking the silence between them. Ben’s eyes snap back up at the feel of a hand softly resting atop his own. Ahsoka smiles at him for a moment before blinking quickly and backing away. She gestures down at the lightsaber on the table between them.

“So, uh, what are we doing here?”

“I was…” Ben purses his lips. Part of him desperately doesn’t want to tell Ahsoka what he’d been planning on doing. It’s that voice inside of him that screams that the Light is weakness, that giving up on the Dark path is failure. That voice is quieter now, it is quieter every day. Maybe one day he won’t hear it at all. He doesn’t listen to that cruel, doubtful voice. Ahsoka is the only person he knows that could possibly help him with this – and he _wants_ to do this. He swallows thickly. “I was going to take a look at my – my crystal.”

“Oh,” She says and he doesn’t miss the way her eyes light up. His jaw tenses. “Well, let’s have a look, then.”

Ben sighs deeply before waving his hand over the hilt of his lightsaber. The components disassemble in front of them, laying themselves carefully and neatly onto the table in front of him. The kyber crystal, burning red and cracked into two distinct pieces, hangs in the air between him and Ahsoka. She reaches out and grabs it, eyes wide in something like disbelief or shock.

“You really did a number on this thing, huh?” She says, inspecting the broken crystal in her palm closely, poking one part of it with one finger.

“Yeah,” Ben agrees mournfully. “I did.”

Snoke had berated him for his failure to bleed his kyber crystal correctly – another one of his weaknesses, just another in a long line of failures yet to come in the life of Kylo Ren. Ahsoka doesn’t mock him now. Her presence is kind and comforting, something he’s not quiet sure how to react to.

“Well, I’ve never healed one this broken before.” She nods her head towards the gem in her hand. She smiles warmly and grabs one of his hands, dumping the crystal pieces into it before closing his fingers around the stone. “But let’s see what we can do.”

* * *

Luke doesn’t remember much about arriving at his father’s fortress. The journey in general is mostly a blur. He knows that he woke with a low fever outside of Eiradu and had reached out to his father through the Force. Miraculously, that had worked, his father sending him coordinates immediately. He remembers gripping the ship’s controls, his hands unsteady, the ship shaking. He remembers heat - terrible, dry heat, worse than Tatooine, and a sensation of weightlessness. He thinks his father was there, he remembers his voice anyway. He remembers medical droids, and R2D2, he’d been there too.

He wakes in a strange room, his head pounding something awful. The walls taper up to the ceiling, which is smaller than the floor below. The entire room looks like it is carved from the same smooth, black, stone-like material. Despite the illumination of the lamps lining the walls, shadows seem to cling to every surface they can, thick and dark with an energy of their own like living beings. Luke sits up, or, he tries to. He can’t feel his right hand, and it is heavier than normal, hanging from him like a dead weight and - He gasps as he _remembers_.

He yanks his arm out from under the covers, and he certainly doesn’t expect to find a hand on the end of it, nevertheless, there it is. He flexes the fingers and they move at his command, if a bit slowly, but he can’t _feel_ them moving - he can’t feel his hand at all. He brushes the pads of the fingers on his left hand against the back of his right. The skin feels real, but it’s cold.

“The sensation is strange.” Luke jumps at the sound of his father’s voice. He steps out of the shadows, a datapad in one hand. “You will get used to it.”

“It’s fake.” Luke says and then squeezes his eyes shut tightly. What a stupid thing to say, of course it’s fake! His father must think he’s an idiot.

“It is. How does it feel?”

“I can’t feel it at all.” Luke answers, flexing the fake fingers again, he turns the hand over to inspect the palm. He’s missing the scar he’d gotten when he was seven and tried to climb to the top of the tallest vaporator on the farm. Owen had been so mad. Something in Luke’s chest squeezes tightly at the memory.

“Good. That is better than the alternative.” His father says, nodding slowly.

“Is it?”

“How are you feeling?” Luke’s father asks, ignoring his question.

“I’m -” Luke starts and tries to sit up further, but his head is spinning. “Not great.”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Comfortable?” Luke repeats, his head a little too fuzzy to really grasp the question being asked of him.

“The bed, is it acceptable?” His father asks a bit more slowly than before. “I cannot imagine it being of low quality, though I have never used one of the beds here.”

“You’ve never used one? Isn’t this place yours?”

“It is.”

“But you’ve never slept here?” Luke asks, trying to understand what is going on.

“I do not sleep.” His father says plainly, as though that is a normal thing to say, as though there are plenty of people in the galaxy who just don’t _sleep_.

“Oh,” Is the only think Luke can think to say in response.

“Is it acceptable?” His father asks, repeating his earlier question.

The mattress beneath him is firm, a little firmer than he would like, but certainly not uncomfortable. It is certainly of better quality than the mattress roll he’d slept on back home on the farm, and he can’t really complain about the pillows being oddly shaped when he’s spent the past month and a half sleeping on the bunks of the _Millennium Falcon_ which hardly counted as beds at all, in Luke’s opinion.

“Yeah, it’s fine – thank you.” He scratches at the sheets below with a finger on his left hand. They are soft enough and black, of course, or maybe dark-grey if he’s being generous.

“Are you… thirsty? Hungry? I could have something brought up for you.” His father suggests.

“No, I’m alright.” Luke leans his head against the cool headboard behind him. A wave of light nausea washes over him. He’s not sure he could even hold anything down.

“You should eat.” His father begins punching something into the datapad in his hands.

“Really, I’m not hungry.” Luke shakes his head and, oh, is that a mistake. The room around him spins uncontrollably for a second. He brings is hand up to his head to help steady himself. “How long have I been here?”

“Nonsense, you have been very ill. You will eat,” Luke rolls his eyes. He’s not sure why he even bothers to ask his father questions at all. “And when you are well enough, you will tell me where your sister is.”

A wave of cold washes through Luke. His stomach twists anxiously. No, he will not let his sister and father meet, as cruel as that may seem on the outside. He will not give that vision he had in the cave the opportunity to come true.

“No – Leia didn’t want to – She’s…” He closes his mouth tightly. How can he tell his father that his sister hates him? That she would likely try to kill him if given the chance? “She doesn’t want to be here.”

“It matters very little what she wants. She is my daughter; she belongs by my side.” Luke’s father says firmly. He does not look up from his datapad as he speaks. Luke wonders what he is reading.

“You don’t understand, father.” Luke tries to rise further but feels himself pushed back into the bed by unseen hands. “Hey!” He shouts when he realizes that his father is holding him back in the bed using the Force.

“You require _rest_.” His father says, emphasizing the last word.

“I won’t tell you where they are.” Luke says, squaring his shoulders as best as he can while lying in bed. He wills his voice to be as firm as possible.

“We shall see about that.” His father responds simply.

“I won’t.” Luke huffs out a frustrated breath. “Father, I had a – a vision and…” Luke stops as the door of the room slides open with a soft _whoosh_. A serving droid rolls in carrying a tray covered in a domed silver lid. It sets the tray down on his lap and lifts the covering revealing a bowl full of pale broth and a few pieces of toasted bread.

“Be careful.” The droid instructs robotically. “It is hot.” Luke frowns at the droid and then at the soup in his lap. He turns his glare to his father.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

He stares at the bowl of soup in his lap for a long while. His father says nothing and doesn’t move except to swipe at the screen of his datapad. Is he just going to stand there? Is he waiting for Luke to eat something? Reluctantly, Luke brings a spoonful of broth to his lips. It is very mild-tasting and warm and as it slides down his throat to land in his stomach, he actually finds that it soothes some of his nausea. He takes a bite of the toast next.

“I’m eating.” He says, his mouth still full of toast. He waves the bread in his hand for emphasis. His father does not look up.

“I am glad.” He says plainly. Luke scowls.

“Don’t you have a _job_ or something?” Luke asks, rolling his eyes. He brings another spoonful of soup up to his lips.

“I am doing it right now.”

“Are you just going to… stand there?” Luke asks, shaking his head. His father, as he’s come to learn, is the leader of the entire Imperial Navy and is the right hand of the Emperor himself – surely he has much more important work than just watching over Luke or whatever he’s reading over on his datapad.

“Perhaps.”

Does his father not trust him? Why would he? Luke had run away last time after all. That was different though. He’d, essentially, been a prisoner on the Death Star. His room had been locked and his friends in danger. He looks at the door to the room he is in now. Is it locked? Could Luke leave if he wanted to? He takes a bite of toast and swallows it down along with all of the doubts bubbling up inside of him. It’s too late to go back.

“I won’t leave you, father.” Luke says, setting the toast down on the tray and turning to face his father fully.

His father says nothing, letting the declaration hang in the air between them. He does look up at Luke, the datapad moving behind his back, but that is the only indication that he has heard Luke at all.

“I came here to help you.” Luke confesses. “I know there’s still good in you – I’ve felt it.” His father says nothing so Luke presses on. “You saved my life, helped me destroy the Empire’s weapon because you care for me. The Dark Side wouldn’t allow that.”

“What do you know of the Dark Side?”

“Uh,” Luke starts lamely. “Some.”

“No, you know nothing – not yet.” His father takes a step closer and Luke can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Your fever has broken. You will eat and you will rest. When you are well enough, your training will begin.” His father turns and begins striding towards the door, his cape billowing behind him, the ends of it lost in the thick shadows.

“I didn’t come here to be trained in the Dark Side!” Luke calls out in protest. “I won’t turn!” He says, willing his voice to sound confident.

His father’s steps do not falter at his words. He stops only when he reaches the door which slides open easily. He looks down at something on the other side which beeps at him angrily.

“Your _droid_ wishes to speak with you.” Luke’s father says, stepping aside to allow R2D2 to barrel into the room like an angry, warbling little storm.

“Artoo!” Luke cries happily at the sight of the astromech. The droid doesn’t seem to be particularly happy with him, but Luke doesn’t care, it’s just nice to see a familiar face – so to speak. Luke leans over to press one hand to the head of the droid, but the movement upsets the tray on his lap, the bowl toppling over. Both it and the soup freeze, caught in mid-air. They stay like that for a moment, hovering, unmoving, before righting themselves, every drop of broth returning to the bowl. Luke looks up at his father, still stood in the doorway, one hand outstretched.

“You should take more care. You could burn yourself.” He says and though the tone of his voice is as robotic and distorted as ever, it almost seems chastising. Luke nods his head and his father leaves without another word.

R2D2 trills at his bedside, inquiring about Luke’s condition. The droid rocks back and forth on his treads nervously.

“I’m alright, really.” He says, forcing a smile for the benefit of the kindly droid. “Look, even got a shiny new hand.” He lifts the cybernetic hand up to show the astromech and wonders when he will get used to the new weight of the false appendage. He tries to laugh but the sound is a little sadder than he’d intended. “How are you? Did he lock you outside? I’m sorry. I’ll – I’ll ask him not to do that.” Luke’s confidence in his father listening to him is wavering, but R2 doesn’t need to know that.

R2D2 wishes Luke luck and sounds just about as sarcastic as a droid can. Luke frowns and throws his head back a little too hard, hitting it against the durasteel headrest. He closes his eyes and sighs. He’s not sure how, exactly, he’s going to do it, but he will help his father – he has to.

* * *

Leia frowns down at the galactic chart on the navcomputer, her hands resting on either side of it on the _Falcon_ ’s main console. She sighs heavily, her lips pursed, brows drawn together in concentration.

“You’re gonna burn a hole right through my ship if you keep staring at it like that, Princess.” Leia turns her glare on Han who seems about as put out by it as ever – which is to say, not at all. She huffs out a small, irritated breath.

“Why do you insist on calling me that even after I’ve told you not to?” She asks, her hands moving to her hips.

“I’ll call you whatever you want, Leia.” Han says, his voice low, a smirk spreading across his face. Distantly, she can hear Chewie laughing quietly behind her. Leia swallows hard around nothing and turns back to the console to hide how her cheeks are burning.

“Crait is the closest base to where we are, and to where Hoth is.” She says, pointing to the dot representing the system on the screen. She refuses to let Han wrench away her focus. She needs to keep her mind busy, occupied. “It’s possible they would have gone there.”

“Possible,” Han agrees, nodding his head, running one hand over his chin and cheek. “But there are lots of places they could be – you said so yourself.”

Leia grits her teeth, a physical attempt to quell the desolation and fear that threatens to drag her down. There’s no point in wallowing and worrying, she has to find the Alliance – and her father. He’s fine, she’s sure he is, he has to be. She coughs to relieve the tightness in her throat.

“That’s true.” She says with a nod, her voice firm and perhaps slightly too cold, though she prefers that to the alternative.

“I mean, what are the odds of your people being at the first base we choose, or even the second?”

“The odds of the Rebel Alliance being on Crait are exactly 9260 to –” C-3PO’s tinny voice begins, ringing through the cockpit.

“Hey, have you ever heard of a ‘rhetorical question’, goldenrod?” Han asks the droid with a sneer.

“As a matter of fact, I have.” C-3PO answers proudly.

“Thank you, Threepio, but we don’t need to hear the actual odds.” Leia says with a tight smile. She’d really rather not know how unlikely she is to find her father or the Alliance right away.

“Listen,” Han says, leaning forward, forearms braced on his knees. “I know Crait is close, but I got a friend who’s even closer – same sector as Hoth even. He’s pretty plugged in, might have heard something – if not, he knows a lot of people, could help us get in contact with your rebels maybe?” He shrugs.

“I’m less than inclined to trust another one of your _friends_ , Han.” Leia scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“I was wrong about Vullen, I’ll give you that.” He says, ducking his head, his hands flying up in a gesture of surrender. “This guy’s different though. I, uh, I trust him.” He continues, sounding less than confident in Leia’s opinion. “You don’t trust me? Chewie’ll vouch for him!” He gestures an arm in the Wookiee’s direction. Leia turns to see Chewie wave an arm back in Han’s direction. She can’t understand what he says very well, but she thinks he’s asking to be kept out of it.

“I don’t know, Han. I think Crait is the better option.” She says, folding her arms over her chest and turning her attention back to the navcomputer.

Han stands up and points at something on the console screen. His arm brushes up against Leia’s and she tries to ignore the way her heart beats just a little bit faster.

“It’s real close. Makes much more sense to go here, see what we can find out, than to traipse across the galaxy – wasting _my_ fuel, mind you – searching every planet and sector we can think of. Plus, if the Empire really attacked Hoth, isn’t it possible they’ve located these other bases too? We go to Crait, we could be wandering into a trap.” He stands up to his full height and looks down at her. “That’s what I think anyways.”

Leia blinks quickly, her mind running over all of the possibilities. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and bites on it absentmindedly as she thinks. She’s not sure that she can trust anyone Han vouches for, but his points are valid. She has no idea if the Alliance is on Crait or Reamma or even if they’ve repurposed the old abandoned base on Dantooine. She sighs, rubbing at her temple.

“Alright, we’ll go to your friend first – but only until we find more information on where the Alliance might be. I’ve wasted too much time away from them already.” She agrees reluctantly.

“Understood, your Highness.” Han says, placing a hand softly on her arm, rubbing his thumb gently on the sleeve. For a horrible moment Leia worries that he’ll ask her if she’s alright, but he doesn’t. He plops down into his pilot’s seat and turns his attention to the controls in front of him. “Lando’s a character, but he’s an alright guy, really. We can trust him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a long one! Haha! Longest chapter yet, I think. I had fun writing this one though, especially Ben and Ahsoka's part - I just think they have such a fun dynamic. A few big things happened here. We're leaving Yoda behind, mostly because I feel that he can't really go with our heroes on the rest of their journey. Also, Leia did not have a Dark Cave vision. I really toyed with the idea and had something in mind, but I have something I'm even more excited for planned for her down the line - hopefully you all like it! 💖
> 
> Vader and Luke's part was so much fun for me. I love imagining Vader as this like dark shadow that just trails Luke at ever turn, but he's also like a mother hen and Luke is just rolling his eyes at him. 🙄 "That's my dad"
> 
> I didn't have the Leia and Han bit in the first few drafts of this chapter, but I knew I had to add it. Things have been getting a little heated for our group of heroes. It's so great that Han knows a nearby spot where they can all chill out. 😉🧊❄
> 
> Thanks as always for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! I always love hearing from you, so let me know what you think! 💖 Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	28. The Other Side Of The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought I instructed you to rest.”
> 
> “I have rested.” Luke says with a sigh.
> 
> “You have.” His father agrees after a short time. “Perhaps you are ready. Follow me.” He turns and begins striding down the platform to the corridor on the other side. He does not wait for Luke to follow.
> 
> “Ready?” Luke calls after his father, scrambling to keep up, R2D2 following closely at his heels. “Where are we going?”
> 
> \---
> 
> Leia and Han get a little alone time away from their nosy kid while Vader decides that it is time for some bonding with his own.

Leia finds herself in the cockpit for much of the journey to Bespin. It is so much easier to be there than in any other part of the ship with the others, with Ahsoka or Ben or Rey, all of whom look at her like she is some delicate, fragile thing bound to break apart at any moment. Han doesn’t look at her like that. The way he _does_ look at her flusters her sometimes, but it never makes her question her own strength, never makes her feel weak. He’s the only one who calls her ‘Princess’, but he’s also the only one who never treats her like she is one.

Ben and Rey are easy to avoid, the two of them spend the majority of their time with each other and seem rather happy to be left to their own devices. Ahsoka is a bit harder. She still wants to help Leia learn how to use the Force, it would seem, and while Leia knows that these are lessons she will need if she is to stand even a chance of facing Vader, she would quite like to avoid any talk of the Force for a little while if she can manage it.

Han also spends most of his time in the cockpit. He waves Chewie off when the Wookiee comes to relieve him so that he can get some rest about halfway through the journey. It doesn’t escape Leia’s notice and she allows the warm feeling it generates in her to spread through her chest, melting something cold there, despite her better judgement.

They talk a bit and Leia is only slightly surprised that they are able to do so without quarreling. Han tells her stories of his many daring adventures, of smuggling runs gone right and wrong, of close calls and near-disastrous escapes. Some of his tales, she suspects, are a bit exaggerated, but she doesn’t make her suspicions known. She tells him about Alderaan and of her own missions with the Alliance, of the trouble she’d had in even being allowed to join by her parents and of earning the respect of her peers, of being seen as another rebel rather than just a princess playing at insurgency.

Sometimes they don’t talk. Sometimes they just sit in silence, the ship humming happily around them. Leia is surprised how easy it is, how natural it feels, how those things don’t scare her as much as she thinks they ought to.

They’re having one of those quiet moments now. Leia tries to keep her mind occupied, tries to keep focused on what needs to be done, what commlines she hasn’t tried yet, who outside of the Alliance might know what happened, where they might have gone, but it is difficult. Her mind keeps supplying her with Luke’s face just before he’d left, how hurt and betrayed he’d looked. She can’t help but worry that he is alright, that she’d not hurt him too badly, that Vader hasn’t… She shakes her head to clear those unwelcome thoughts. A couple of disloyal tears prick the corners of her eyes and she blinks them away.

She feels the side of her face growing warm and catches Han staring at her openly through the side of her vision. She breathes slowly and deeply once before turning to face him, steeling herself.

“Can I help you, Solo?” She asks, trying to sound unaffected by both the troubling thoughts assaulting her mind and the heat of his gaze. He says nothing for what feels like a long time.

“Listen, Leia,” He begins and Leia’s face falls almost as hard as her stomach. He sounds so _serious_ and she hates it. She crosses her arms over her chest to protect herself from whatever he is about to say next. He leans forward in his chair, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes falling to where his hands are clasped between them. “I’m not sure what happened on Dagobah before we arrived, but I can tell that you’re… upset.” He throws his hands up, palms out, surely in an attempt to placate Leia. “Now, I haven’t asked ‘cause you haven’t said anything, and I ain’t gonna make you tell me, but - you can, you know?” He asks. His eyes lift to meet hers. They are pleading with her, like he is hoping that she _does_ know, so desperately.

“I’m fine.” She says, shaking her head and turning her own seat back to face the ship’s viewport. Her cheeks are burning - with anger, with shame, with frustration? She’s not sure. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to go and ruin whatever it was they’d had?

“This ‘Ice Queen’ shtick doesn’t fool me, Leia.” He says with a frustrated huff that almost sounds like a laugh.

“ _Shtick_?” She questions, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, that act you put on like nothing and no one can get to you, like you don’t care - Whatever, you’re fine.” She can see him running one hand through his hair through the corner of her eye. “But even if you’re _not_ , that’s - I -” He grounds out a frustrated sound halfway between a growl and a sigh. “Never mind.”

“Fine,” Leia says, coolly.

She wants to feel relieved that he’s dropped the subject, but she doesn’t. Instead, something that feels very much like guilt squirms angrily in her stomach. She purses her lips and crosses her arms tighter across her chest so it almost feels like she is holding herself. It doesn’t help.

“Luke went to Vader.” She says quietly, almost hoping Han doesn’t hear her.

“Yeah, I knew that much.” He says, turning to face her slightly again. Leia keeps her own eyes on the streaking lights of hyperspace before her. “Why’d the kid go and do a thing like that?”

“Because,” Leia sighs, closing her eyes. “Vader - is our father, Luke’s and mine.” The confession comes slowly, her words stilted and choked. She hates saying them. It feels like speaking the words aloud breathes life into the truth of it all.

“What?” Han breathes. “He’s - I didn’t even know he was _human_.” He says with a laugh. Leia turns full to glare at him with as much heat as she can muster because none of this is _funny_. It’s her life. “Sorry,” Han says quickly. “That’s, uh, that’s a lot, Leia - and Luke went to him because of that?”

“He thinks that he can help him.” Leia says, willing her voice to remain steady. Luckily, it obeys her. “He thinks that there’s still good in him.”

“That kid,” Han says, shaking his head. “He’s gonna get himself…” But his words trail off into a sigh. “You’re worried about him.” He says, it’s not a question. Leia nods tightly, because _of course_ she is, but there’s more to it, she’d just not sure she can say it aloud again.

“I -” Humiliating, her voice catches on the lump in her throat. Han’s hands instantly reach out, taking one of her own. She doesn’t pull away. It feels nice, having her small hand completely encased in both of his. He’s so warm, Han, and it’s so cold in space. Leia is tired of being cold. “I hurt him, Han.” She says, squeezing her eyes closed. “I fought him. He wouldn’t have attacked me, but I - I hurt him and now he’s out there somewhere, injured and alone, and it’s all because of me.” Her voice is too high, it warbles too much. She hates it. “I’m no better than that monster.”

“Leia,” Han’s voice sounds far away but she doesn’t miss the thick concern that laces the sound of her name. She hears Han stand, feels him approach. His hands move to cup either side of her face, tilting it upwards. Leia opens her eyes. “You’re _nothing_ like him, you’re good, you’re…” His words trail off again, his eyes softening. He looks down at her lips.

He leans down slowly, as if giving her time to stop him, should she want to - she doesn’t. When he kisses her she kisses him back. It starts off slow, sweet, and comforting, nothing like the heated, insistent way they’d kissed last time. She feels like there’s something else there too, but she’s a little afraid to think on it too long.

“You’re beautiful,” Han says after pulling back very slightly.

He’s still so close, his nose brushing up against her own. He rubs his thumb along the apple of her cheek, wiping away a tear there she hadn’t noticed previously. His hazel eyes shine in the harsh ship lighting. It makes her heart swell and her breathing speed up.

He opens his mouth to say more but Leia doesn’t hear it because she pulls him down to capture his lips once again with her own. He falls to his knees before her, forcing Leia to lean down to meet him, but she hardly minds it at all. It must hurt, she realizes, kneeling on the floor like that, it being no more than metal grating, really. Han doesn’t seem to mind it all that much, himself. She grasps at his hair and at the shirt on his back, pulling both tightly. Han’s hands move down to her waist, holding it gently, almost completely encircling it.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, something tries to remind her that this is a bad idea, but she can’t really remember why anymore. Why would kissing Han, holding him, letting him hold her, be a bad idea when it feels so _good_? How could it be wrong when it feels like the only thing she wants in the galaxy, like it’s the only thing she knows anymore that’s right?

She thinks that she might still be crying, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, nothing but Han and having him near. He really is very warm. She wishes he would wrap himself around her, thaw every frozen piece of her, all of the parts she has kept so cold for what had seemed like good reasons at the time. Distantly, she hears something beeping rapidly, but she pays it absolutely no mind whatsoever.

“Leia,” Han mumbles against her lips.

The next thing she knows, he’s pulling away. The world rushes back. Leia clutches the front of Han’s shirt and tries to pull him back to her. He laughs warmly but shakes his head.

“I have to pull the ship out of hyperspace,” He explains softly, kissing her once more quickly before rising and moving to hover over the main console.

The loss Leia feels is greater than she would have expected and that does frighten her a little bit. It feels like a little piece of her heart has slotted out of place to make room for him and that frightens her a lot. Still, when Han looks at her over his shoulder and smiles, all of that fear dissipates like so much smoke. She stands, approaching him slowly.

“Can you show me?” She asks tentatively.

Han looks over at her with a smirk, one eyebrow raised, like he suspects she already knows how to pull a ship out of hyperspace. She does, of course. She’s tried to learn everything and anything she can to make herself an asset to the Alliance and knowing the basic ins and outs of flying a space-craft is definitely up there when it comes to useful skills. If he does suspect such a thing, he doesn’t say so aloud. Leia is grateful for that.

“Sure, Princess,” He says, his smirk widening. The reference to her royal stature stings less than usual somehow. In fact, she finds that she hardly minds it at all. “You’ve gotta check your coordinates first, make sure you’re where you wanna be.” He says, pointing to a small readout in front of him. Leia nods, scooting slightly closer to his warmth. She wraps one arm around his at the elbow. Han says nothing about it. “Then you gotta check this guy,” he points to another screen. “Make sure you’re not gonna pop out in the middle of an asteroid field - or in the middle of an asteroid.” He adds with a small laugh.

“Right,” Leia agrees with a smile.

Han runs through the rest of his checks and procedures, and Leia is certain he is going a little slower than usual. He takes the time to explain every step of the process and he does so with more patience and care than Leia would have imagined the hot-headed pilot to possess. He takes her hand and wraps it around the worn leather handle of a switch on one of the wall consoles.

“Flip this to cut in the sublight engines and that’ll pull her out of lightspeed.” He says, keeping his hand wrapped around her own.

Leia pulls on the switch, it sticks a bit, but she manages to push it flush to the console behind it. The ship shudders slightly before stilling, the white and blue lines before them vanishing, the black of realspace dotted with sparkling stars replacing it. A small white planet hangs below them.

“Welcome to Bespin.” Han says from right behind her, his voice low. He hasn’t let go of her hand and she doesn’t pull it away.

* * *

Luke isn’t sure how long he just lays in bed after his father leaves. He drifts off to sleep a few times, so he doesn’t know if it has only been a few hours or if it’s closer to a full standard day, all he knows is that he is bored out of his mind. He tries to get up exactly twice. The first time, his father’s voice is in his head the instant his feet touch the cool stone floor.

_Back in bed, young one._

Luke cranes his neck around, searching for hidden cameras or droids that could be watching him, but he finds none. Perhaps his father is just _that_ attuned to his presence. He wonders where his father is, exactly, within the fortress. He wonders how large the complex is, what it looks like outside of the four walls that surround him. He remembers so little from his flight in, it had all been nothing more than a blur of red and orange and black.

Another serving droid, or maybe the same one, Luke can’t tell, brings him another tray of food - stew this time. It’s delicious and warm and Luke is happy to eat something more substantial than plain broth or ration packs for the first time in what feels like forever.

The droid also brings him a change of clothes which is just as welcome as the food when he considers the state of the clothing he arrived in - dirty, torn, singed, stained with swamp water, mud, and sweat. He doesn’t know what the material it is made of is called, but it is soft and breathable – easy to move in. He likes it, even if it is all black and the insignia of the Empire is embroidered onto the right breast.

The second time he tries to get up, his father’s voice invades his mind, unbidden, yet again.

 _I need to use the ‘fresher!_ Luke pushes back, rolling his eyes. His father makes no more complaints or demands as Luke slides out of the bed.

His legs are a little wobbly underneath of him at first, but he quickly regains his balance. He spies the door to his room’s attacked ‘fresher, but he ignores it for now. He hadn’t _lied_ to his father, he does need to use the ‘fresher… sort of, but his intense curiosity of the fortress that surrounds him seems a much more pressing need at the moment.

He approaches the door leading out of the room, taking care to keep his footfall quiet even though there is no one around to hear him. He is actually surprised when the door flies open upon his approach. It had not been locked at all. Some of Luke’s tension eases. He is not a prisoner here. Even if he is sure that an attempt to leave would not be met kindly, he has not been locked in his room. R2D2 rolls up behind him, beeping at him quietly but insistently, demanding to know what Luke is doing.

“Shh!” Luke shushes the droid, peeking his neck out into the hallway outside to ensure there really is no one around to hear them. “I’m not doing anything – I just want to look around, is all.” The astromech rolls forward, nudging the backs of Luke’s legs, begging him to return to his room. “No, Artoo – you can wait here, if you like, I won’t be long. I promise.” R2D2 beeps anxiously at the idea of being left behind.

“You can come with me then, just stay quiet.”

Luke quietly pads out into the hallway leading to his room. It is blessedly empty. He’s not sure if any living beings even work or live within the fortress. He imagines that some must, but so far, he’s only seen his father and droids.

The corridor, which is just as dark and steeped in shadows as the room he’s been given to use as his own personal quarters, leads off to the right and to the left. The walls are made of bare, dark stone – Luke suspects the same can be said of the entire fortress. With no indicators marking where he should go, he decides to head off to his right.

The corridor empties out into a large, open hall. The ceiling is so tall it is lost in a void of darkness above. The floor becomes a bridge hanging over a deep cavern, a circular platform in the very center of the room. A large window looks out onto the planet outside. Rivers of lava flow outside, the sky above is grey with smoke and clouds and Luke cannot tell if the planet is in its day or night cycle. He shuffles out onto the circular platform in an attempt to get closer to the window, though he is sure to be careful with his footing as there are no railings to be seen. R2D2 chirps a warning to not draw too close to the edge.

His mouth hangs open in awe as he takes in the scene before him. He has never in his life even imagined a planet like this, let alone seen one. He’d had no idea how many different types of terrain could exist, trapped as he was on Tatooine, but now he’s seen so many in such a short time – jungles, swamps, ice-plains. He’d like to see an ocean one day.

His eyes are drawn to a small patch of rocky shore along one of the lava rivers. It doesn’t look any different than the rest of the scenery surrounding it, but Luke can’t seem to look away. He is completely and utterly transfixed by that little spot of gravel and lava. He can hear distant screaming, men shouting, but he can’t make out the words they are saying. He shivers as a cold sensation passes over him.

“I believe the refresher is located in your quarters.” A deep, metallic voice rumbles behind Luke, making him jump in surprise. Though he is not really _that_ close to the edge of the platform, he feels the dark coils of the Force wrap around him and pull him back farther into the center of the circle. “You must be more careful.” His father says, letting Luke go.

“Gah!” Luke exclaims, wriggling his arms around in frustration as he regains command of them. “Don’t do that!”

“I thought I instructed you to rest.”

“I _have_ rested.” Luke says with a sigh.

“You have.” His father agrees after a short time. “Perhaps you are ready. Follow me.” He turns and begins striding down the platform to the corridor on the other side. He does not wait for Luke to follow.

“Ready?” Luke calls after his father, scrambling to keep up, R2D2 following closely at his heels. “Where are we going?”

Luke’s father does not answer him – though Luke is hardly surprised by that at this point. The first thing he needs to do if he stands any chance of helping his father is getting the man to _listen_ to him. He follows his father down the dark hallways. They turn a few corners, three or four, Luke is not sure, before reaching what seems to be his father’s destination.

His father stops in front of a door which slides open easily revealing a large, seemingly empty room. It is only once Luke has crossed the threshold of the room himself, does he see that it is not, in fact, completely empty. Racks of weapons, most of which Luke could not name if he tried, line the walls. One wall holds row after row of lightsaber hilts.

 _Anakin changed, he betrayed the Jedi and the Republic, helped to destroy the Order, killed many of them himself, even the younglings._ Bail’s words from what seems like so long ago ring through Luke’s mind. He swallows hard as he tries not to think too hard about how his father might have come into possession of so many lightsabers. Even still, he feels slightly queasy and has to avert his gaze.

“Why did you bring me here?” Luke asks, turning his head to look at his father and not the evidence of the terrible things he’s done before him.

“I told you that once you were well enough your training would begin – have you forgotten?”

“No, I haven’t.” Luke says, and it is only partially a lie. “I just didn’t think we would be starting so soon.”

Luke moves to the middle of the room and sits down, crossing his legs underneath his body. He places his hands on his knees and waits for his father to join him.

“We will not be meditating today, Luke.”

Luke tilts his head curiously at that. Back on Dagobah they’d spent the majority of each morning in meditation – in fact, much of Jedi training seemed to be comprised of meditating or contemplating the Force in some way.

“What will we be doing?”

“Lightsaber combat.” His father explains plainly, unclipping his own lightsaber hilt from his belt. Luke grasps at his own hip but finds nothing there. His father points one finger at the wall of lightsabers behind him. “The lightsaber you have been using is on that wall. Call it to you. You may not always have a weapon at the start of combat, but you must always know where to find one.”

Luke’s eyes scan the wall of lightsabers – but there are just so many! How is he supposed to find his own?

“Do not use your eyes, they can deceive you.” His father says. “You must know the feel of your blade. The crystal in the lightsaber you have been using is not attuned to you – we will fix that as soon as possible. It will make things more difficult for you, but not impossible. Reach for the lightsaber and pull it to you.”

Luke closes his eyes and reaches out with his feelings. He senses his father and the life forces of the other beings inhabiting the fortress, but there is something else there as well. He can see the crystals glowing brightly in his mind’s eye, green, purple, blue, yellow – even a few splotches of red which burn as brightly as flame. He sees one blue light and senses that he knows it, or maybe it’s that it knows him. His arm shoots out in front of him.

His eyes fly open when he feels the cool metal of the hilt hit is hand. He looks at the lightsaber held in his grasp – it’s the right one! He smiles, proud of himself, and looks up at his father whose own saber is held in his right hand, cast outwards to his side. The red blade ignites and Luke’s breath is caught in his throat.

“Defend yourself.” His father says taking a step towards him. Luke makes an embarrassing little noise as he steps backwards, away from his father, tripping over his own feet in the process. “You must ignite your blade to do this, son.” Luke nods dumbly, his mind blank. He flicks on his own lightsaber, the blue blade singing to life in his hands.

His father swings downwards in a long arc. Luke’s heart is drumming hard against his chest as he brings up his lightsaber to block his father’s burning, red blade with his blue one. He stumbles backwards, not ready for the force behind his father’s attack.

“Use the Force to brace yourself, to keep your footing.” His father instructs.

“Uh, alright.” Luke agrees before turning his blade to bock his father’s next swing.

This time, he focuses the Force on his feet, wills them to stay in place. When red meets blue again Luke does not stumble. His feet stay firmly planted in place, but his knees buckle, nearly giving out beneath him.

“No, try again.”

His father swings again and again, each strike is slow but precise. Luke can tell that his father is holding back, but it still takes just about everything Luke has in him to defend himself. Eventually, his father relents, allowing Luke to take a breath. Luke’s is hunched over, hands on his knees, and panting hard when a serving droid rolls up behind him, a cup of water perched on the tray it carries.

“When did you even order this?” Luke asks breathlessly before chugging as much of the water as he can handle at once.

“During your training.” His father responds without further explanation. Luke rolls his eyes, downing the rest of the water quickly. “Now, attack me.” His father says after letting Luke rest for a moment. Luke shakes his head instinctively.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You will not.” His father responds instantaneously.

He stands there waiting, his lightsaber lowered, though the red blade still blazes brightly. Luke steps towards his father hesitantly and swings his blade once. The strike is easily blocked, the red blade throwing off the blue almost before Luke can process what has happened.

“Too slow,” His father says, moving his offhand to rest behind his back. Luke wonders if he is showing off. “Again.”

Luke strikes again, with a bit more force this time. He is still warry of harming his father – that is the last thing he wants. He tries to keep his mind on what he is doing, but it keeps wandering to Leia, to their battle on Dagobah.

“Your thoughts dwell on your sister.” His father muses.

Luke steps backwards in shock and anger, throwing up every layer of mental shield he can muster. He glares at his father, though if the man behind the mask is chastened at all he does not show it.

“She harmed you,”

“Stay out of my head!” Luke snaps.

“You project your thoughts very loudly – I cannot help it.”

“Well try anyway.” Luke spits, his face hot. Anger coils hotly in his stomach. The shadows and darkness surrounding him seem to lap at it hungrily. It builds much more quickly than he is used to, almost uncontrollably so.

“You would do well to draw on that anger. Let it fuel you.” His father says. Luke shivers as a cold chill sweeps up his spine and his anger dissipates.

“I’ve already told you; I didn’t come here to turn to the Dark Side.” Luke says, flicking off his lightsaber and crossing his arms over his chest. He can feel something rising in his father. It’s not anger this time, it feels much more like frustration.

“Yes, you mentioned that.” His father says as calmly as ever, none of the dissatisfaction Luke feels seeping into his tone.

“You don’t believe me.”

“You are young. One day you will see, as I did, what the Dark Side can bring you if only you open yourself to it, my son.” Luke opens his mouth to interject is disapproval, but his father continues before he is able to get even one word out. “Where is your sister?”

“I’m not telling you.” Luke says firmly.

“Why do you insist on keeping her from her father?” Luke’s father steps forward but Luke stands his ground, squaring his shoulders. He will not allow his father to bully or intimidate this information out of him. He will not endanger his friends like that.

“Because she’ll kill you!” Luke sounds desperate to his own ears, desperate for his father to understand, to finally listen. “I saw it – in a vison. I can’t – I won’t let that happen.” Luke’s father says nothing to that, does not move. He wishes he could see his father’s face, wishes he could see if his father was even looking at him. “I care about you, father, and Leia. I can’t let anything happen to either one of you.”

“We are done for the day.” His father says, the vocoder in his mask distorting any emotion the man that lives behind it might be feeling. Luke sighs but he wants to scream. “Return to your room. A droid will be there with your dinner shortly. Do not attempt to wander again, young one.” His father says before flying from the room, his cape billowing behind him.

Luke slides to the ground, his lightsaber falling from his grasp and clattering to the floor beside him. R2D2 rolls up and beeps softly, his tone sad, maybe an attempt at consoling. For the first time since joining his father Luke feels completely overwhelmed. He places a hand on the astromech’s domed top, blinking away tears.

* * *

Vader stalks down the corridors of his fortress towards his office. He can feel his son, a bright flame of life and Light burning amidst the Darkness of this planet and the memories it contains. The boy has not left the training room, but Vader is not concerned about that.

His son had said that he _cared_ for Vader. It should not be surprising, care for one another’s well-being is something commonly shared between children and parents and, of course, Vader cares a great deal for his son’s safety. Still, to hear it spoken aloud, so plain and frank in its truthfulness, it stirs something in Vader’s chest that he – he simply cannot name.

It should not be possible. There is nothing left in Vader to care for. He is destruction, that is what he has built himself into, and yet his son – his son wants to _help_ him, believes that there is something left to help, that such a thing is possible, that it ever was.

Luke is young and naïve, full of boundless hope for hopeless things. He is so much like… like his mother, in that way. Vader almost remembers what that had been like, what it had been to feel something more than the cold void that resides in his chest now. At that time, he’d felt hope too, hope that life could be – _No_ , he will not allow himself to complete that line of thought. It is not productive. It is folly to dwell on a past long dead.

The door to his office glides open smoothly as he approaches. He ignores the pinging message on the inside of his mask’s lenses, the one that had come in while he had been training his son. Instead, he paces the room, arms held behind his back.

His son had a vision of Vader’s daughter killing him. He wants to discount it as nothing, certain that, untrained as the girl must be, she would stand no chance of landing even a single blow on him, let alone a killing one – but after everything he has seen, he knows better than to ignore visions granted by the Force. That has cost him dearly too many times before. He must remove his daughter from the corruption of the Jedi and terrorists she has surrounded herself with.

How to do that, though? Luke is adamant in not telling him where his sister is. Vader is sure that, with time, the boy will see reason in this as he will in a great many things, but Vader does not have the luxury of time. He could take the information he needs from his son, it would be a simple thing, the boy’s shields are no better than a padawan youngling’s, but he does not wish to break whatever trust exists between them, and that would surely do it.

He turns to the holoscreen on the wall of his office and it turns on at his command. The message he had received begins to play. A face comes into view, one of the bounty hunters he had hired to capture his children and their companions. Vader can see very little of their surroundings. Wherever they are, it is dark.

“Greetings, Lord Vader.” The bounty hunter begins their message, seeming rather pleased with themselves. “I have news on the location of the _Millenium Falcon_ and its crew.”

Vader’s attention is caught instantly, he’s heard no news of that ship and its pilot for far too long, save for a claim of a sighting on Utapau that turned up fruitless. Any news is good news indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how much I would enjoy writing Han/ Leia romance scenes before starting this fic. They're a lot of fun and I really enjoy their dynamic of constant bickering undercut by sexual tension but bringing genuine comfort to each other. 💖 They really are end game, y'all.
> 
> More of Luke and his darling, Darth Dad! This training scene was super fun to write - I mean, I just enjoy writing for those two crazy Skywalker kings in general, but this was especially fun. Vader would, legit, be so intimidating to train with, like, I cannot imagine. Just this pillar of darkness with a laser sword being like "Defend yourself" Luke handled it better than I would, for sure.
> 
> Thanks, as always, for the kudos and bookmarks and for everyone's always very kind and fun comments - I love hearing from you all so much! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	29. Old Friends Not Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No,” Ahsoka answers from behind Rey. “It would seem that Han and Leia choose a new destination for us without consulting anyone else.” Her brows raise, indicating her annoyance, but there’s no real heat in her tone. “Apparently we’re supposed to be staying with a friend of Han’s for a short time while we try to contact the Alliance.”
> 
> Ben, who is already quite pale to begin with, absolutely blanches at Ahsoka’s words, the blood draining from his face. His eyes fly open wide and his mouth hangs open slightly. The ship shudders beneath their feet as it lands.
> 
> “What friend?” He breathes, his voice tight.
> 
> \---
> 
> Old memories are explored by everyone! What fun!

“Well, I didn’t take too kindly to being left behind, as you can imagine.” Ahsoka says with a small, nostalgic grin.

“So what did you do?” Rey asks, moving her piece on the Dejarik board. She narrows her eyes at the configuration of the enemy pieces and looks up at Chewie. “Have you moved yours around?” She asks. The Wookiee shakes his head and grunts in offense.

“I froze myself right alongside them, of course. Once I was in the Citadel with them, they couldn’t very well send me back, now could they?” Chewie laughs. His Mantellian Savrip moves across the board and squashes Rey’s Grimtaash with its massive club.

“What’s it like?”

“Being frozen in carbonite? I don’t really remember much of the _being frozen_ , part. I remember before and after – that’s the hard part, by the way. Hibernation sickness.” She adds with a physical shiver.

“Chewie!” Han calls out from the cockpit. “Get in here!” Chewie roars back in protest. “I don’t give a damn about your game! We’ve got company!”

Ahsoka and Rey look at each other with concern before rising and following Chewie into the cockpit of the _Falcon_. Sure enough, the ship has been flanked by two small Starfighters. Luckily, from the looks of them, they don’t seem to be Imperial, but to be fair, Rey hasn’t been in the past long enough to recognize every single Imperial craft.

“Should I jump into the gunner seat?” Rey asks, already turning around to do just that.

“No, no.” Han says, waving a hand behind him dismissively. “This is all just a big misunderstanding.” One of the Starfighters shoots at the side of the _Falcon_.

“Misunderstanding?” Ahsoka questions, gripping the back of one of the passenger seats for balance as Han rights the ship.

Han ignores her. Instead, he picks up the transceiver for the ship’s comm radio and pulls it up to his lips.

“Listen, I told you already - I don’t have a landing permit. I’m trying to reach Lando Calrissian. If I could just get through to him, I -” Han stops as static crashes through from the other side of the radio, their communications having been cut off. Han slams the transceiver back at the comm but misses the hook that holds it up, leaving it to fall and dangle on its cord just above the ground.

“I thought you knew this person.” Leia says, folding her arms over her chest and glaring down at Han.

“Where are we?” Ahsoka asks, leaning forward to get a better view of the viewport.

Rey can see nothing but thick clouds, golden and white. She also wonders where they are. Ben had predicted they would be heading to Crait, something she has been mentally preparing for and suspects that Ben has as well, but this looks nothing like the mineral planet, and there was no way they would have reached it by now.

“Head to landing pad 327.” A tinny voice rings through the ship’s radio. Han laughs victoriously, slamming the palm of one hand on the ship’s steering controls.

“What’d I tell ya? You people worry too much.” Han dips the ship lower and the clouds part revealing a sight Rey was sure she would never have the chance to see in real life. “To answer your question, we’re staying with a friend of mine while we get this whole _Alliance_ thing sorted out.”

Once, many years ago, while crawling through the wreckage of a star destroyer in the graveyard on Jakku, Rey came upon a small scrap of paper displaying a grand city suspended in the sky. Another scavenger had told her it was a postcard and that it was worthless, not even worth the paper it was printed on let alone any amount of portions. He’d recommended she throw it away like the garbage it was. She’d kept it instead, hanging it on the wall of her shelter.

How many hours had she spent daydreaming of that city surrounded by fluffy, white clouds? How many times had she imagined it had been her parents who’d written ‘Wish You Were Here’ in big, red letters across the front, ignoring the faded letter on the back clearly sent by one Imperial officer to another? Now it is in front of her. She is really here. It is so much better than a postcard.

“I should go get Ben.” She turns, exiting the cockpit and finds Ben already wandering the halls, rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes with the heel of one hand.

“Have we dropped out of hyperspace already?” He asks, mid-yawn. “We don’t need fuel, do we? Han and I topped the _Falcon_ up back on Utapau.”

“No,” Ahsoka answers from behind Rey. “It would seem that Han and Leia choose a new destination for us without consulting anyone else.” Her brows raise, indicating her annoyance, but there’s no real heat in her tone. “Apparently we’re supposed to be staying with a friend of Han’s for a short time while we try to contact the Alliance.”

Ben, who is already quite pale to begin with, absolutely blanches at Ahsoka’s words, the blood draining from his face. His eyes fly open wide and his mouth hangs open slightly. The ship shudders beneath their feet as it lands.

“What friend?” He breathes, his voice tight.

“Don’t worry, big guy, different friend.” Han’s voice calls out as he leaves the cockpit. He leans casually against the threshold of the hallway. “This one doesn’t even want me dead.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Leia asks from beside Han, one eyebrow raised in speculation.

“Yeah, he didn’t seem too friendly when he tried to shoot us out of the sky.” Ahsoka says with a small laugh.

“You people have absolutely no faith in me.” Han says, shaking his head and turning around. “C’mon, Lando’s gonna be waiting for us.”

Ahsoka and Chewie follow Han and Leia towards the entry ramp of the ship, but Ben stays stood where his is, stock still, face frozen in what might very well be pure horror. Rey approaches him slowly and places a hand gently on his arm. He inhales sharply and looks down at her with wide, panicked eyes.

“Ben, what’s wrong?” Rey asks quietly.

“We need to leave – _immediately_.” He responds, eyes still glazed over with fear. “We cannot trust Lando Calrissian.”

“What?” Rey tilts her head, confused. “I thought he was a friend of your parents? He fought with them – Leia told me a little bit.” She adds hastily and then purses her lips, hoping that her mentioning Ben’s mother in their time will not upset him too much – it doesn’t seem to affect him at all. He shakes his head.

“No, he’s… He was – is, I suppose, but he betrays them.” Ben explains, his words too fast and anxious.

He opens his mind to her, welcoming her inside, and pushes a memory to the forefront. Rey sees Han from the perspective of a young Ben. His arm is looped around the shoulders of another man, one Rey does not quite recognize. Han grins wickedly at his friend and shakes him good-naturedly.

 _Your Uncle Lando here brings us down to the dining room of that big ol’ palace of his for, what was it, Lando? Refreshments?_ Han bellows a laugh. _Well, who do you think was waiting for us at the head of the table – Darth Vader!_

 _What’d you do, Dad?_ Ben’s small voice asks. Rey wonders how old he is in this memory, what he had looked like as a child. She pictures a small boy with big, brown eyes trying to hide under a mop of dark, curly hair.

 _Well, you know your old man, I shot the bastard._ Han’s eyes go wide in an instant and he looks around quickly. _Shit, sorry kid, don’t tell your mom about that, okay?_

 _Okay, Dad._ Little Ben answers. Han smiles at his son and reaches down to ruffle the boy’s hair.

 _You know what, kid? You’re alright_.

The memory fades and a smiling Han is replaced with a frenzied Ben.

“What do we do?” Rey asks.

“We need to convince the others to leave… now.” He grabs her hand and strides towards the ship’s entry ramp.

* * *

Luke barely makes it back to his room before his father barrels in, informing him that they will be leaving immediately and to follow him – one of his father’s favorite instructions, it would seem. Luke almost wants to protest, even if only so that he doesn’t have to comply to every one of his father’s requests without question, to feel like he has _some_ amount of agency in this situation, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he has anything to pack or do around the fortress, so any attempt at delaying would be completely transparent. He sighs and acquiesces, following his father down the shadowy corridors, R2D2 following close behind.

“Where are we going?” Luke asks, though he’s not quite sure why he does - it’s not like his father ever answers any of his questions anyway.

“That is not something you need concern yourself with.” His father says after some time.

“Well, I’m going, aren’t I? Why shouldn’t I _concern_ myself with it?”

That question his father does not answer. Luke is hardly surprised. Instead, his father silently leads him towards a hangar bay. A large, white shuttle waits for them there, the entry ramp lowering upon their approach. As they enter the hangar Luke remembers something. His head swivels around, searching – but he doesn’t see what it is he is looking for.

“The ship I arrived in – where is it?” He asks.

“That ship was stripped for information on the Rebel Alliance.”

“Are you kidding me?” Luke asks, stopping in his tracks. “It wasn’t _mine_ ; it was – I borrowed it!” His father stops and turns around a few meters ahead of him.

“I am not kidding.” He says plainly. Luke groans, doubting very much that his father is ever ‘kidding’. He wonders if the man has ever told a joke before in his life.

“I was supposed to return that ship – you can’t just _do_ things like that!” He sighs, shaking his head. He refuses to allow himself to get angry, certain that his father will just tell him to ‘draw on his anger’ yet again. “Whatever, let’s just go, I guess.” He should have known that ever returning that ship to Ben would be a long shot, but he can’t help but feel bad. He’ll have to find some way to make it up to him.

Luke’s father does not move for a moment. Curious, Luke reaches out in the Force. He feels something stirring in his father, something that feels almost like guilt or remorse. It is gone in an instant, replaced by cold, dark nothingness. His father turns and stomps up the shuttle’s entry ramp without another word.

Luke follows slowly behind his father. He looks around the shuttle. He’s been in one of these once before, when he and the others were captured on Alderaan and taken to the Death Star. The memory makes Luke feel slightly queasy, but he pushes past it and heads to the cockpit where his father is waiting in the pilot’s seat. Luke is a little surprised to see his father flying his own shuttle. He supposes he assumed someone else would do so, that his father would have people for that.

“I am a better pilot than anyone who works for me.” His father says, answering Luke’s unasked question. Luke frowns but his father continues before Luke can say something about staying out of his head - again. “We will work on your shields next. The ones you have are subpar.”

Luke rolls his eyes as he sinks into the co-pilot’s seat, his arms crossed over his chest. Part of him wants to be upset with his father for listening in on his thoughts again, but his father had said before that he couldn’t really help it. Luke doesn’t know enough yet about the Force to know if that’s necessarily true or not, so he decides to give his father the benefit of the doubt in this situation.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Luke asks quietly.

“No, that will not be -” His father stops abruptly, his hands stilling over the ship’s controls. “If you would like to check the shields, you may do so.”

Luke nods, turning his attention to the console in front of him. He’s never flown a ship like this before, so the layout is unfamiliar, but he manages to find the shield controls without having to ask where they are, which he is very glad for. He flips the switches under the screen on the console, turning it on. It blinks to life and, slowly, the indicators for the shield generators power fill.

“They look good.”

“Excellent.” His father says, gripping the ship’s controls and pulling them back. The shuttle rises into the air and leaves the hangar at what Luke would normally assume is an unsafe speed. Luke leans back in his seat, gripping the armrests tightly, swallowing heavily as he watches the scenery below, the lava rivers and gravely shores, fly by. His stomach flips as his father quickly points the ship up towards the ashy, gray sky.

“You like to fly?” Luke asks tentatively once he’s certain he won’t lose his lunch. His father doesn’t answer right away, so he presses on. “It’s something you enjoy?”

“I - yes, I suppose so.” His father answers shortly.

“I like flying too.” Luke says, adjusting himself in his seat, trying to get more comfortable.

“You are a skilled pilot.” His father remarks.

“Thank you.” Luke can’t help but smile as pride bubbles up in his chest at his father’s praise. Being a pilot is all Luke has ever wanted to do, in large part because it was what his father had been - or, what he had been _told_ his father had been. “I don’t have a ton of experience, really. Before the, um, the Battle of Yavin, I’d only flown my T-16. I’d race Beggar’s Canyon with my friends, I could even fly Dead Man’s Turn - which I guess you…” Luke’s father’s head turns sharply towards him and he shuts his mouth, his words dying in his throat.

“That is _incredibly_ dangerous!” Luke can feel his father’s anger pouring off of him along with something else, something colder, something like fear. “And what were your guardians doing while you were trying to get yourself killed?”

“Well, Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru didn’t exactly _know_ I was - wait a second, you know about Dead Man’s Turn?” Luke tilts his head, curious. He supposes that the name of the turn is enough to imply its inherent danger, but something about his father’s reaction makes Luke believe he knows it a bit more intimately.

“I do.”

“Oh, yeah,” Luke says, his palm resting on his forehead. “You’re from Tatooine, right? You’d have to be if Owen was your brother.”

“Owen Lars was hardly my _brother_.” Luke’s father says coldly, turning his attention to the viewport before them.

“What do you mean?” Luke asks, but his father doesn’t answer. Despite that, Luke is encouraged. He and his father are having a conversation - almost. “Where did you live?”

“Why do you care about any of this?” His father asks, his vocoder not distorting his exasperation.

“I just want to get to know you.” Luke says with a shrug. “You’re my father.”

Luke’s father is quiet for a time after that, but Luke senses that his question has not simply been ignored. Instead, it is being considered. The air around them is uncomfortably thick and Luke shuffles in his seat to relieve some of the awkward energy building in him.

“I was born on Tatooine, but that is no longer who I am.” His father responds confusingly. “Anakin Skywalker died long ago and with him went any connection I had to that place.”

Luke doesn’t understand that. He doesn’t see how Anakin Skywalker could be dead if his father is sitting right next to him. Even if he calls himself Darth Vader now, he would always be from Tatooine. Luke is certain that nothing he could ever do would sever his ties to that sandy planet, no matter how much he’d disliked it while living there. It will always be a part of him.

“Have you always liked to fly?” Luke asks cautiously. Something in his father’s tone had told him that their conversation was over, but Luke desperately doesn’t want it to be. He hopes that returning to the more neutral topic of flying will be safer.

“Yes.”

R2D2 beeps behind Luke, causing him to jump a little in his seat. He’d nearly forgotten that the droid was with them. He warbles something about how Luke’s father built his own podracer at nine years old.

“Is that true?” Luke asks, turning to face his father again, eyes wide. “That’s _incredible_!” R2D2 continues, telling Luke about his father had raced in the Boonta Eve Classic. Luke listens, enraptured. “I didn’t even know humans _could_ podrace. I mean, no one can these days on account of the bans…” Luke hardly feels his father’s rage, mounting and boiling over just beside him.

“You will cease speaking of this unless you wish to be ejected from this craft.” His father roars, swinging around and pointing a finger in the astromech’s direction. R2D2 beeps something very quickly, binary spilling from him so rapidly that Luke only catches a few curses every now and again. Luke’s father ignores the droid, turning his attention to Luke who shrinks back in his seat slightly. “This conversation is over.”

Luke nods as his father returns his attention to the ship’s controls. R2D2 finishes his tirade and rolls himself out of the cockpit. Tense silence falls as the shuttle approaches a star destroyer. They land inside of the ship’s hangar and exit together.

“A room has been prepared for you in my personal quarters on the ship. You will have free range of my apartments but do not wander. The ship is very large.” His father says, as they stride down the entry ramp side by side.

“I’m not a child, you know.” Luke says, folding his arms over his chest. “I think I can find my way around a ship.” Or ask questions if he did get lost, at the very least. Luke’s father says nothing to that. “And don’t talk to Artoo like that.” He says with all of the firmness he can muster.

“That droid needs to learn when not to speak.”

“That _droid_ is my friend.” Luke says, rounding on his father, his hands balling into fists by his sides. Distantly, he can feel the shock of the troopers and officers waiting to greet them in the hangar. He pays them no mind. “And if what he’s told me is true, he was yours once too.”

“Escort him to my quarters.” His father says, turning to a nearby officer with a severe face. The woman is all crisp lines and sharp edges, matching her uniform well.

“At once, Lord Vader.” She says, leaning into a shallow bow. She turns to Luke. “Sir,” She inclines her head towards him. Despite his frustration with his father, Luke has to suppress an awkward laugh at the show of respect. Luke’s father marches off without another word, his cape billowing behind him as he rounds a corner.

Luke follows the female officer through the ship, glad she is there to show him around. He’d spoken a big game with his father, but every hallway looks exactly the same - everything is dark and sleek and angular. The Empire definitely has a theme when it comes to interior design, Luke decides.

His father’s apartments look much the same as the ones he’d had on the Death Star - sparsely furnished, uninviting, barely lived in if lived in at all. The officer stands in the doorway between the living area and the hallway outside for a moment as Luke takes in the surroundings. Her hands are clasped behind her back and she regards him without a shred of emotion on her face.

“There is a comm on the wall should you require anything, sir.” She says, her voice crisp.

“Um, thank you.” Luke says nodding and trying to force a polite smile. He manages it but it doesn’t reach his eyes. She leaves, the door sliding shut behind her.

Luke pads through the living area in through the rest of the apartments, stopping only when he finds a bedroom he assumes to be the one prepared for him. He tosses himself onto the dark comforter and groans into the fabric. R2D2 follows him in, stopping just in front of the bed and beeping at him with concern. Luke lifts himself slowly, propping himself up on his elbows and forearms.

“I’m sorry he yelled at you, Artoo.” Luke says, certain that the droid will not be getting an apology from his father any time soon. “I wouldn’t have let him do anything to you, if that’s any consolation.” Luke sighs, his head dipping, hair falling into his eyes. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this too. I just - I want to help him, but I don’t know how. There’s still good in him, I know there is, but I just don’t know how…”

He rolls over onto his back and groans again in misery, his hands flying up to cover his face. Rey had warned him, or, she’d tried to. She had told him that returning to the Light wasn’t a decision he could make for his father, but he thought that he’d at least be able to help. He realizes with a sinking feeling that he doesn’t know _how_ to help his father, he doesn’t even know where to start. He’d thought that if he just showed up and told his father that he cared for him and that he wouldn’t leave it would be enough to help him turn from the Dark. He’d been so naïve.

“Ahsoka told me that he was a good man once, but I don’t actually know anything about who he was - I don’t even really know much about who he is now.” Tears sting Luke’s eyes and he tries to blink them away because he is just so tired of crying but ones escapes him anyway, rolling down his cheek. “Why did I think I could do this?”

R2D2 beeps and it sounds a bit like a sigh. Something glows bright blue beside Luke catching his attention. He rolls over to get a better look. It is a hologram, much like the one he’d seen of Leia what feels like years ago on Tatooine. It’s a man, a young one, not much older than Luke himself. He wears long robes and his curly hair hangs down just above his shoulders. A faint scar bisects his right eye. He kneels down on the bedspread before Luke – the hologram is small, kneeling, he is no larger than Luke’s hand.

“Are you recording, Artoo?” The man asks. Luke doesn’t hear the droid’s response but the man smiles and stands, taking a few steps back. “Good.” His hands go behind his back and his eyes, which had held some quiet intensity, soften. “Hello, Padmé. I’m sorry I missed our scheduled call today, I know you have something important you need to tell me, but I couldn’t get away.”

Padmé, that had been Luke’s mother’s name. This man - could this man be his father? Luke scrambles closer to the blue-tinted hologram, desperate to get a better look at the flickering form of Anakin Skywalker. Luke swallows hard, his father looks a lot like him – or, rather, he looks a lot like his father. Tears sting the corners of his eyes at the thought.

“You’ll _never_ guess who I saw today.” The man who might be Luke’s father’s smile grows, spreading to his eyes, almost hiding the dark bags that hang beneath them. “Ahsoka!” He laughs a little and that is certainly not a sound Luke ever expected to hear coming from his father. He laughs a little himself in surprise. “She’s alright, or, she looks alright, I guess. She’s coming to meet us now. We didn’t get to talk much.” His smile falters only slightly. “I’m not sure how much longer it’ll be until I get to come home – sometimes it feels like they’re never going to bring us back from the Outer Rim sieges, even if I know that’s not true. I miss you so much, Padmé, and I love you. I hope I’ll get to see you – actually see you – very soon.”

Luke’s father kneels down, his face becoming level once more with R2D2’s recorder. His hand disappears into the void beyond the hologram.

“Alright, send this along to Pamdé on our secure comm channel as soon as you get the chance, and then delete it, of course. I’ve got to go talk to Obi Wan about -” The hologram fades, the recording having ended.

Luke sits up on the end of the bed and wipes at the few tears that had fallen as he watched his father, as he saw his face for the first time. He smiles at the droid, at his loyal and kind friend. He feels hope rekindling in his chest, warm and solid.

“Thank you for showing me that, Artoo.” Luke says, leaning over the edge of the bed to pat the droid’s head. “Can you play it again?”

* * *

Leia, Chewie, and Ahsoka are already gathered at the base of the _Falcon_ ’s ramp. Rey gasps beside Ben as they descend the ramp just in time to see Lando rear back to hit Han. He stops short and breaks into a laugh, wrapping his arms around his friend who seems too shocked or confused to do much of anything.

Rey looks up at Ben. He purses his lips and his grip on her hand tightens slightly before he shakes his head in a way that would be nearly imperceptible to anyone not paying close enough attention. He can’t say anything now, not with Lando around. He doesn’t want the ex-smuggler turned Baron Administrator to suspect that he knows anything at all.

“So, what brings you to our fair city, Han?” Lando asks, throwing his arm around a still slightly shell-shocked looking Han. He leads the pilot back towards the group.

Ben breathes in deeply and slowly, desperate in his attempt calm himself, to ward of the wave of panic threatening to engulf him. He reaches out with the Force and does not sense Vader at all, though that hardly helps quell his nervous energy, both he and his grandfather had been on Yavin IV together for days and he’d no idea.

“We’ve run into a little bit of trouble.” Han explains, regaining some of his composure. “Just need somewhere to lay low while we contact our, uh, friends.”

“I’ve heard a little bit about the _trouble_ you’ve found yourself in, Han.” Lando says pointedly. “You’ve made yourself some very powerful enemies - and a few very lovely friends, how do you do?” Lando stops directly in front of Rey and, unwrapping his arm from around Han’s shoulders, he extends one hand to her. Ben snaps out of his own mind just in time to bristle at the way Lando smiles at Rey.

“Rey,” She says, taking his hand. He pulls her hand up to his face in the same instant that Rey begins to vigorously shake his hand in a bungled greeting. Lando seems thrown for only a moment before he throws his head back in a deep laugh.

“Now, _that’s_ a greeting.” He says, releasing her hand and moving onto Leia.

“And who might you be?” He takes her hand and places a light kiss on her knuckles.

“Leia,” She says, pulling her hand away, she smiles at him a little coolly. “A pleasure.” She adds in a way that is just a shade shy of polite. It’s a specialty of Ben’s mother, that icy diplomacy.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Leia.” Lando says inclining his head towards the princess.

“I’m Ahsoka,” Ahsoka says as Lando moves on to her. She does not off her hand, keeping both of them firmly on her hips. “And this is Ben and Chewbacca.” She nods to the others in turn. “It’s nice to meet you, but can we get inside now? I don’t like just sitting out here, exposed.”

“Of course,” Lando says with a smile. “Follow me.” He turns and begins striding towards the doorway on the far end of the landing platform. “I assure you, though, you are safe here.” Ben frowns, knowing that Lando’s words are a lie, even if they don’t sound or feel like one in the Force.

The interior of the palace is sleek, in a word. Everything from the walls to the floor to the furniture is clean and white and smooth. Lando had no longer been the Administrator of Cloud City when Ben was a child, but he has been to this palace once or twice and it is exactly as he remembers. Lando leads them through corridor after corridor, takes them upwards in a turbo lift, eventually arriving at a set of double doors as crisp and clean as the rest of the palace.

The doors open to reveal a circular living area with a few doors leading off to what Ben assumes are bedrooms or refreshers. Large windows grant a view of the city below and of the cloud-filled horizon.

“I’ve had a few rooms prepared for you. You all look like you’ve been to hell and back, so I’ll give you some time to clean up and then we can head down for some refreshments,” Rey inhales sharply and Ben covers the sound with a cough. “Then you can tell me a little more about this _trouble_ you’re in.” Lando adds with a laugh before leaving the room, the doors sliding closed behind him.

Not a moment after he’s left, Ben and Rey corner Ahsoka, dragging her through one of the bedroom doors. The lights slowly fade on as they enter, painting the white furniture with a warm yellow glow. Ahsoka rips her arm from Rey’s grasp and looks at the two of them incredulously.

“What was that about?”

“We need to leave.” Ben says. He lets go of Rey’s hand and begins pacing the room, running one hand through his hair over and over. “We can’t trust Lando. We need to leave. It might already be too late.”

“Woah,” Ahsoka says, putting both hands up in front of her. “Slow down. What do you mean ‘we need to leave’? It might be too late for what?”

Ben groans and falls onto the bed behind him, his face dropping into his hands.

“Lando sold my parents out to Vader last time. He’d gotten here first and had forced Lando into a deal.”

“How would Vader know we’d be going here? _We_ didn’t even know until less than half an hour ago, and it’s not like he can track us through hyperspace.” Ben and Rey look at each other quickly and Ahsoka narrows her eyes. “Right?” She prods.

“No,” Ben agrees, shaking his head slowly. “That technology does not exist.” He does not add the unspoken _yet_.

“So, how would Vader have gotten here first?” She asks. “How did he last time?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Ben sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Let me think for a moment.” He says, raising one hand, his eyes trained on the soft carpet beneath his feet. “My father found a few aspects of this story a bit more entertaining than others, so I don’t know everything by heart - there was something wrong with the ship, the hyperdrive was broken I think, so someone may have followed them through realspace. There was a bounty hunter involved, I know that.”

Boba Fett, that had been the bounty hunter’s name, right? Ben rubs roughly at his jaw, his mind a swirling, disjointed storm of Vader, carbonite freezing, and Hutt palaces.

“You’ve mentioned before that things have changed from… _last time_ , could this have?” Ahsoka asks. Ben blinks, some of the fog in his mind clearing.

“I don’t know.” He closes his eyes and is quiet for a long moment. _Could_ that be possible? Can he afford to think that way? “Maybe.”

“I don’t sense Vader - and before you say anything, I am aware that he can hide his presence in the Force, but I don’t sense _any_ danger at all.” Ahsoka says, crossing the room to sit in a white, rounded armless chair. Rey moves to sit by Ben. She places a hand on his shoulder and he relaxes slightly, mounted tension melting at her touch.

“I still think we should leave.” He says.

“Well, good luck convincing the others.” Ahsoka responds with a small puff of laugher. “What’s your plan? ‘We have to leave because I said so’? Because you can’t _tell_ them.”

Could he tell them? Could he walk out into the living area and say ‘ _Han, Leia, I’m your son from the future, but that’s not important right now – We cannot trust Lando. He_ will _betray us. We need to leave now.’_ No, they would think him insane at best, and even if they did believe him, they would have too many questions he is sure he does not want to answer.

“If the three of us insist we need to leave, maybe they’ll listen?” Rey suggests. Her tone betraying how little confidence she has in her own idea. Ben sighs, not knowing what else they can do.

That plan goes about as well as Ben had expected. Han laughed in their faces before demanding an explaination or reason they couldn’t give. Leia simply shook her head – she and her future husband as stubborn as ever.

“You want to leave? We will - as soon as we’ve made contact with the Alliance or an ally.” She says, smoothing the clean, cream jacket she’d changed into after their arrival. “If you insist on doing so before then, be my guest. I’m sure you can find passage off planet and I wish you well, but we are staying.”

The doors of the living area open before Ben, Rey, or Ahsoka have a chance to respond.

“I hope you’ve found these arrangements suitable.” Lando says making his way into the apartments.

“Oh, of course.” Leia agrees with a shallow nod. “You’ve been very hospitable.” She tucks her arm under and around one of Han’s who looks down at her a little surprised.

“If you’ll all follow me,” Lando says, turning back towards the doors. His cape, powder blue lined with gold, flutters behind him.

Rey and Ahsoka look up at Ben for a signal or a decision.

“Be ready for _anything_.” He hisses before striding off after the rest of the group. His hand settles on the hilt of his lightsaber, gripping it tightly.

“So, how’s that gas mine treating you?” Han asks as they round a corner.

“Well you know, I’ve had my share of trouble – labor disputes, you know, that sort of thing. Keeping the Empire out of my hair has been a headache all on its own.”

“Yeah, and how’d you manage that?” Han asks, not knowing the answers Ben does.

Ben squares his shoulders and plants his feet firmly on the ground as they reach their destination, a set of tall, narrow double doors. Ben unclips his lightsaber and thumbs the ignition switch. He calls on the Force, lets it flow through him, opens himself to it in preparation of the fight that he is _sure_ is imminent. The doors slide open smoothly and for a single second Ben cannot breathe. The dining room is empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Welcome to Cloud City, ya'll! That certainly wasn't Ben's reaction, but I'm sure he'll chill out now that he realizes Vader's not there. Speaking of Vader, where's that cool cat headed? Probably on a father-son bonding camping trip or something. Good for them, I say. 
> 
> Luke and Vader have had some fun times already, huh? Is there anything I love more than awkward and slightly forced father-son bonding? The answer to that question is a resounding _no_. It sustains me, fuels me. 
> 
> Fun little tidbit, Rey really did have a postcard from Cloud City. I found this out while doing research (reading the Wookiepedia) I guess it's in her 'Survival Guide'. I just thought that was so sweet, I had to include it. 🥰
> 
> Thanks so, so much to everyone for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks! I adore hearing from you all! 💕 I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	30. What the Future Holds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your mother is from Alderaan, right?” He goes absolutely rigid and Leia bites her lip, suddenly fearing she’s said the wrong thing.
> 
> “How do you know that?” He asks, his voice tight.
> 
> “Rey told me – please don’t be upset with her,” She adds hastily, wanting nothing less than to cause a rift between the two of them. “I asked. I was curious about her braids. I was prying, I apologize.”
> 
> \---
> 
> Everyone enjoys a family dinner on Bespin (don't tell Darth Dad and his boy, they weren't invited!), Ben and Leia spend some quality time together, and Ben speaks with Rey about the future.

Ben blinks slowly as he shuffles into the bizarrely but thankfully empty dining room. His hand does not leave the hilt of his lightsaber as he clips it back to his hip, but his grip does loosen slightly. He can feel Rey’s confusion echoing his own, though hers is tinted with slightly more relief. She touches his arm lightly as she enters the room behind him and he rolls his shoulders, an unconscious effort to relieve some of the tension that has built there slowly since their arrival on Bespin.

“Please, sit.” Lando gestures to the long, white table in the center of the room covered end-to-end in various dishes. “Help yourselves.” Ben is certain that he can hear Rey’s stomach grumble beside him and he smiles despite his still-thrumming anxiety.

 _Vader could be around any corner - how can you think about food at a time like this?_ He teases.

 _It is_ never _an inappropriate time to think about food_. She responds very seriously.

Ben laughs quietly to himself as he lifts his hand from his saber and holds it out to her. He’s not sure how she can have any appetite at all when he feels he is going to be sick at any second but he will not allow her to go hungry - she’s already spent far too much of her life like that.

She takes his hand and he leads her over to a nearby chair. He pulls it out and gestures for her to sit but she just looks at him with apparent confusion.

“Are you going to sit down?” She asks with a whispered question. Ben opens his mouth, unsure of what to say for a moment before realization hits him.

“It’s for you,” He responds, voice quiet. Rey looks at him quizzically for a second but eventually she does sit, and he slides the chair into the table before taking a seat next to her.

“Such a gentleman, Ben.” Leia says from across the table. The emotion that rises in him at his mother’s praise is one so confused he has no name for it. He acknowledges her words with a tight smile. Han rolls his eyes and kicks the chair beside him out from under the table.

“Your royal Highness,” He leans forward, his arms gesturing towards the waiting seat in a grand flourish. Leia huffs, unamused, as she sits. A puff of laugher escapes Han beside her.

“As I said,” Lando starts as everyone begins piling food onto their plates. Ben grabs a bit of ruica and squall tendermeat drenched in fresh colla sauce for himself, even if just to keep up the appearance of a clueless and grateful guest. “I know a bit about the trouble you all have landed yourselves in. In fact,” He says, spearing a bantha steak with his fork. “I had someone - an _Imperial_ someone - poking around here not long ago. Says I’m a known associate of _Han Solo_.” He continues, looking pointedly at Han.

“So, what?” Han asks, frowning. “You’re saying we’re not safe here? Could’a mentioned that earlier I think.”

“I’m saying that you’re lucky you didn’t show up here a week ago.” Lando points his fork across the table at Han. Leia, who sits between the two men, looks at it unimpressed. “And that you can’t stay here long, not only because I suspect they’ve still got eyes on me, but because I don’t want any trouble with the Empire. I’ve worked too hard to keep them out of Cloud City to have fire rain down on my head because of you, Han.”

Ben looks down the table at Rey and Ahsoka. The silent conversation that passes between them requires no Force bonds or dyads; their eyes all scream that they are thinking the same thing. Have things really changed?

“Like I said, we’ll only be here two days, tops.” Han assures his friend. They won’t even be here that long if Ben has anything to say about it. “And we’ll lay low. You won’t have any trouble from any of us.”

“Oh, I doubt that Han.” Lando says with a good-natured laugh.

Beside him, Ben can feel Rey’s mounting nerves. He glances over in her direction. Her plate is piled high with food. So high in fact, he worries that the small mountain is liable to collapse, but it all remains untouched. She stares down with furrowed brows at the spread of utensils on either side of her plate.

 _Why are there so many forks_? She questions, her voice sounding distressed in his head. _How do you know which one to use?_ She frowns and sighs in defeat.

 _It doesn’t really matter._ He assures her. He considers explaining the difference between the fish, salad, dinner, and desert forks, but he doubts she actually wants a lecture on proper table etiquette.

_I just - I don’t want to embarrass myself._

Ben nods beside her in commiseration. He knows how she feels. His issues had less to do with table manners - no, Leia Organa had ensured those were ingrained in her son from a young age - but more to do with never knowing what to say to the confusing and often frightening adults at the many galas and events he’d been dragged to as a child.

Though it all happened long ago, he remembers delegates and senators and princes and ambassadors asking him questions about his life and his family. They would stare at him with narrowed, expectant, judging eyes just… _waiting._ Waiting for him to speak, waiting for him to screw up. He remembers wanting nothing more than to run and hide under a table or behind his mother’s skirts but also not wanting to appear cowardly. He remembers their laughter after he’d mustered up some semblance of an answer, how foolish it had made him feel, not knowing what he’d done wrong. Then there was the voice, of course, reaffirming how stupid they all thought him, how much of an incompetent burden he was to his parents.

He coughs quietly to get Rey’s attention and taps on one of the forks beside his own plate. She smiles at him in thanks before grabbing her own matching fork and tucking in.

“Try the air cake,” Ben suggests quietly, leaning in and pointing towards the sweet, light desert on the table. Rey smiles up at him and nods before reaching over and grabbing a slice. She places it atop of the already precarious pile of food hiding her plate.

“So, you’ve found yourself working with rebels yet again, eh, Han?” Lando asks with a laugh.

“Again?” Leia questions, looking over at Han and dabbing her lips with a napkin before replacing it gently in her lap.

“Oh, switch off, Lando.” Han sighs, rubbing his forehead slowly with one hand.

“He hasn’t told you?” Lando smiles mischievously. “Years ago now, Han helped some rag-tag band of rebels on Savareen steal a whole shipment of coaxium – or, he tried to, more like. Never learned how that one turned out.”

“Nah, you didn’t stick around that long, did you, _pal_?”

“Earned himself a lot of trouble with that move too.” Lando continues, ignoring Han’s biting interjection. “Guy’s got a heart bigger than his head.”

“That’s not too hard to believe.” Leia teases, looking over at Han whose face is now buried fully in his hands.

“Double crossing Crimson Dawn ain’t exactly the same as going up against the whole Empire.” Han protests into his palms.

“No, you’re right. You’ve upgraded.” Lando agrees with a laugh.

“Aren’t you ignoring your other guests?” Han asks, leveling a glare at Lando. He gestures around the other side of the table. “Bother one of them for a little while, won’t ya?”

“How rude of me,” Ben’s stomach drops when Lando’s attention turns to him. “Ben, isn’t it? Tell me a bit about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell.” Ben responds quickly before shoveling a forkful of bitter blue leaves into his mouth as an excuse to say no more. He’d hated ruica as a child, but his mother had insisted on having it often – and Alderaanian delicacy. He doesn’t mind the taste as much now.

“Well, when you’re not in the business of saving the galaxy, what is it you do?” Lando prods, clearly dissatisfied with Ben’s non-answer.

Ben chews slowly, granting himself time to think. What can he possibly answer that question with? _Oh, when I’m not assisting rebellions, I’m trying to quash them_. _I’m in the business of galactic subjugation_. He taps his fingers nervously on the smooth surface of the table and swallows hard, deciding that honesty is his best option.

“I’m between jobs currently.” Ben answers, trying to keep his tone even and easy. Luckily, Lando decides to turn his attention on Ahsoka next.

He can feel Rey’s eyes on him. He turns to face her, taking her hand under the table and offering a small smile. He wonders if she understands what he means. He should explain it to her soon - he should tell her a lot of things soon. He can feel a small stone burning a hole in his pocket. _Soon_ , he assures himself, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. Soon.

* * *

After dinner Lando grants them access a communications bay not far from their apartments with the implication that they can start contacting their allies after getting a good night’s rest. Leia assures him that she is quite well rested and intends on starting right away.

Han, Ben, and Rey begin moving more comfortable seating into the room while Ahsoka and Leia start compiling a list of potential contacts. Ahsoka has more contacts than Leia would have expected, having never known before today that she was Fulcrum - the _original_ Fulcrum. Leia nods tightly upon receiving that bit of news, trying desperately to not appear star-struck.

Arranging the message takes hardly any time at all. They send it out as a rather simple looking distress beacon. Hidden underneath that is an encrypted code, one that, hopefully, only the Alliance should be able to crack. The code hides a message and the comm channel they can be reached on. Sending it out takes only a few moments and the only thing left to do after that is wait.

Waiting proves to be the more difficult task. It is dreadfully boring, for one, and it leaves Leia feeling restless, her feet and fingers tapping with nervous energy. She detests waiting. As time goes on, the others trickle out with promises of returning in the morning after they’ve had a good night’s rest. Even C-3PO waddles off to power down in the apartments lent to them by Lando. Only Leia and Ben are left waiting as the night creeps into the early hours of morning

“You can head to bed if you’re tired.” Leia tells Ben, settling into her armchair. Ben shakes his head and punches something in to the lent datapad in his hands.

“No, I’m fine. I’ve had longer nights than this.” He assures, running a hand through his hair. “But I’ve ordered something to help us stay awake.”

Leia nods, biting back a yawn, knowing that if she opens her mouth it will escape and reveal just how exhausted she is. She hasn’t slept much since they left Dagobah almost two standard days ago, her mind running far too much and far too fast to allow her any real rest, but she’s not ready to sleep. She has absolutely no intentions of resting or even leaving this communications bay until they’ve made contact with the Alliance.

Their drinks arrive after not too long, caf for Ben and naris-bud tea for Leia ordered with the cream and sugar just the way she likes it – she’s not sure how Ben managed to guess that one. Even with the assistance of the caffeinated beverage, her eyelids are heavy. Sometimes she will blink and then wake moments later with a start. She needs to do something to keep her mind and body occupied, so she reaches up and begins pulling the pins from her hair, letting the braids fall against her shoulders before unwinding them.

Braiding her own hair without the aid of a mirror is slightly more difficult, but it’s not something she’s never done before. Once her hair is free and loose, she takes a moment to consider the design. Leia is always conscious of the messages she sends with her hair – sometimes her braids display how she feels, other times they display how she wants to feel or the front she wishes to display to the viewing world. She decides on braids representing courage and hope interwoven with her family’s personal braid.

Her hair doesn’t take as long as she hopes. She should have known better. Her fingers, even as clumsy with exhaustion as they are, know these braids too well. She catches Ben watching her every now and again out of the corners of her eyes looking almost yearning or wistful. It is then that she remembers his Alderaanian heritage which gives her a new idea.

“Ben,” She begins, shifting in her seat to face him. He looks back at her a little fearfully, almost like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. She smiles in an attempt to put him at ease. “Would you like me to braid your hair?”

“You don’t have to do that.” He says, his face going a little pale, a muscle in his jaw working nervously.

“I’d like to,” She offers encouragingly. “I need to have something to do or I’ll lose my mind waiting – only if it’s alright with you of course.” She watches Ben swallow and her stomach sinks. She’s overstepped. She hardly knows him at all and here she is, offering to braid his hair like she’s his girlfriend or his mother or – “I’m sorry,” She says quickly, turning around to face the comm station. “I shouldn’t have asked, I…”

“You can,” He interjects hastily, pointedly not looking at her. “It’s alright – if you’d like.”

Leia stands and approaches him slowly, giving him time to stop her should he change his mind. He doesn’t, or at least he hasn’t yet. She stands behind his armchair and she can see the tense set of his shoulders from here but she can’t tell if it’s from her request or if it is just the general tension he seems to carry with him everywhere.

She hasn’t got a brush so she begins running her fingers through his hair gently. He shivers at her touch but says nothing to stop her. His hair is thick and soft, dark waves that are nearly black but catch brown in just the right lighting – it’s lovely, really. She feels something thrumming in the Force, something happy and warm and comforting, something familiar and yet completely foreign.

“Do you have any requests?” She asks, knowing that she must be very careful when it comes to the design and thinking that giving _him_ the ultimate say is the safest choice.

“What?”

“The design – the braids. Do you have anything you’d like me to do?” She gathers a bit of hair and pulls a pin from her own, fastening the separated locks near his right temple. “Your mother is from Alderaan, right?” He goes absolutely rigid and Leia bites her lip, suddenly fearing she’s said the wrong thing.

“How do you know that?” He asks, his voice tight.

“Rey told me – please don’t be upset with her,” She adds hastily, wanting nothing less than to cause a rift between the two of them. “I asked. I was curious about her braids. I was prying, I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” He says, shaking his head. Leia places her hands on either temple to keep him still. “Sorry,” He adds, sounding like a chastened child. “I don’t have any requests. You can – you can do whatever you’d like.”

“Alright,” She agrees.

She decides on three braids on the top of his head, one starting on either temple with the third running down the center, all three meeting at the crown of his head in a ponytail. She separates the hair into three sections. All that’s left is to decide on what _types_ of braids to use.

She tries to think on what she knows about Ben. She hasn’t known him long, to be fair, but she knows from her encounter with Vader on the Death Star that he is brave. She knows that he loves Rey, but any braids denoting _love_ would be disastrously inappropriate. His is knowledgeable, that is certain… wisdom? Would that imply that she thinks he is _old_? Sometimes the language of braids can be a little tricky.

“Where is your family from on Alderaan?” She asks. Each city has its own unique style of braids and usually a few special braids worn during celebrations or holidays.

“Uh – Crevasse City.” He answers after a moment.

“Such a beautiful place.” Leia says with a smile. Though she believes all of Alderaan to be beautiful in its own special ways, Crevasse City is especially gorgeous. “You didn’t grow up on Alderaan though, did you?”

“No,” He agrees a little sadly.

She is biased, of course, but she wonders why his mother left Alderaan. There are many reasons to leave one’s home planet, of course – work, family, love, a general desire to be somewhere else – but something in Ben’s tone suggests there might be something more, a sadder reason.

“Well, you should visit again some time – under better circumstances of course. My family would love to host you, I’m certain. I –” She stops short realizing that she is weaving the Organa family braid into his hair. She shakes her head and quickly removes the plaits, unsure what she’d been thinking. “Invite your mother as well, if you think she’d enjoy a visit to her home planet.”

Ben’s shoulder sink noticeably, as though Leia has dropped a heavy weight on them. There she goes again, sticking her foot directly into her mouth. She’s not sure what compels her to continue plying him with questions about himself and his past but it’s more than simple curiosity. Perhaps she is unconsciously seeking answers as to why she feels drawn to him in a way she has no words for. An explanation for that instinctive pull she’s felt since she first saw him on the Death Star.

“I’m sorry, Ben.” She apologies quickly. “I don’t even know if your mother is… is she… I’ve been so rude.” Her hands drop from his hair and he sighs.

“No, please.” He whips around. “It’s not – you haven’t done anything wrong.” He assures her. His dark eyes look like they are pleading, but for what? “I just – I haven’t seen my mother in a very long time.” He looks at her for a quiet moment before turning back around. “And I… miss her a great deal.”

“Oh, Ben.” She says, stroking the side of his head gently in comfort. If she’s not mistaken, she thinks he leans into her touch. She purses her lips before getting back to work. “Well, far be it from me to tell you how to live your life,” She begins, and she could swear she hears a small huff of laugher come from beneath her. “But if you miss her, I think you should see her. I mean, I can’t imagine life without my mother.”

She ties off the three braids – valor, strength, and the traditional braid worn during the equinox festival in Crevasse City – before moving back to her own chair. She tucks her legs up and under her and smooths her hands down the front of her pants. Ben runs a few fingers along the braids and smiles, but his happiness is short-lived, it would seem. His face falls and he sighs deeply.

“I would like to – see her.” He admits quietly, picking his drink back up. He stares deeply into the mug of caf held between both of his hands. “But I’m afraid that she won’t want to see me.” He sighs, one hand coming up to rub at his lowered eyes. “I’ve hurt her… so much. I don’t see how she could ever forgive me after everything I’ve done.”

“Well, I’ll admit I don’t know much about your situation and I certainly don’t know your mother, but you won’t know until you try.” Leia offers. She does her best to keep her voice soothing, or, as soothing as she knows how. Something at the thickness in his voice and the tears she sees him trying to hide affects her more deeply than she thought possible. Her chest aches with a need to… do something, to comfort him. It is quite confusing.

She really doesn’t know anything about Ben’s life, what he might have done that he thinks so horrible he worries his own mother would never want to see him again. She’s only known him as her savior and teacher in the Force, one who is quiet and intense and not always patient, but generally seems good. She knows that he once used the Dark Side, that he… fell, but she doesn’t want to think too much on that.

“But take my thoughts for what they are.” She adds flippantly, folding her hands in her lap and settling back into her chair. She keeps her voice light, trying to lighten the heavy mood that has settled over the room, the one _she_ brought on by her questions. She’s getting very good at that, it would seem. “The unwarranted opinions of someone completely uninvolved – ones I should likely keep to myself.” She laughs. “I think I’m just talking to keep myself awake. I apologize for dragging your past into the situation.”

“It’s fine.” He says. He looks up, his dark eyes meeting Leia’s. “I would like to see her again, to speak with her, to tell her that – I’m sorry and I love her,” He pauses, his gaze lingering on Leia who shifts in her seat, slightly uncomfortable. “But I’m not sure if that will be possible.”

“Perhaps once we’ve reached the Alliance and things settle down, you can reach out to her.” Leia suggests.

“Maybe,” Ben agrees with a small, sad smile.

Ben initiates the change in topic not long after that, asking her to tell him more about Alderaan, which she is, of course, more than happy to do. He listens patiently, sipping his caf – Leia has all but forgotten about her tea. It sits, cold, on the floor beside her chair as she goes on and on about Crevasse City – as apparently Ben has never been, somehow, and it _is_ one of the twenty wonders of the galaxy. She insists that he must visit one day, even if only to see where his family comes from.

She doesn’t know when she falls asleep, her traitorous eyes drifting closed against her will, but she wakes to the sound of hushed voices and a blanket tucked around her shoulders. She blinks slowly, searching the walls for a chronometer – shocked to find that it is already mid-day. Ben is speaking with Ahsoka and Rey nearby and Leia sits up, scowling.

“Why didn’t any of you wake me?” She accuses. The three turn to stare at her with wide eyes. She self-consciously rubs a bit of dried spittle from the corner of her mouth. “Have we heard anything from…”

A static buzzing from the comm station interrupts her. Leia jumps up and rushes over to the station, plugging in the codes to accept whatever message is being sent. Leia’s father, blue and slightly translucent, pops into view in the middle of the rounded comm interlink. She gasps, tears welling in her eyes at the sight. She longs to reach out and grab him, hug him, apologize for being so harsh with him the last time they spoke, but he’s only a hologram and others are around.

“Father!” She says, slightly breathlessly.

“Leia,” Her father’s eyes brighten as he takes her in. How she’d worried she would never see his face again, how she had feared the worst. “Thank goodness you’re alright. We thought you were still safe on Dagobah, but when your mother saw your message –”

“Mother – is she alright as well?” Leia asks, unconsciously twisting her fingers together.

“Yes, she is with us.” Her father assures in that warm, calm way of his. “Is Ahsoka with you still?”

“I am, Bail.” Ahsoka says wandering into view of the comm station, her hands clasped behind her back. “Our previous location was jeopardized. Luke has joined Vader. There’s no telling what information he has revealed.” Leia’s father closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Where have you been, father?” Her hands ball into fists by her side as she tries to keep her voice even. “I’ve been trying to contact you for weeks.”

“All of our channels were compromised after the attack on Hoth. We’ve stayed mobile to protect what remains of the Alliance,” Icy fear shoots down Leia’s spine. “And we’ve been working on opening new lines of communication. I would have sent them to you once it was safe.”

Part of Leia wants to question if he really would have or if he preferred to keep her in the dark. That part of her is still angry at being sent away. However, she refuses to snap at him. She nods her head.

“Alright,” She says.

“I’d rather not keep this line open too long,” Bail says and Ahsoka nods in agreement. “I’ll patch you through to another secure line. Send us your coordinates. We’ll come pick you up.”

* * *

Once it is confirmed that a ship belonging to the Rebel Alliance will be arriving in approximately two standard days, the air in the group is considerably lighter. There’s still that low thrum of danger that undercuts every laugh and joke and smile, that constant threat they all know – some more than others – could be right around the corner, but after six months traveling and then finally settling on Ajan Kloss with the Resistance, Rey is used to that.

She lays along a lounge, staring out the window, one hand running along the smooth fabric of the pants she’s borrowed. The fabric is colored like sand but is smoother and softer than anything she’s ever felt in her life – Sleedaran silk, Leia had called it. Rey had been opposed to the pants at first, the fabric on the legs so loose they look and function more like a skirt than a proper pair of trousers. They are fairly impractical and would likely become an active hinderance in a fight, but she has to admit, even if only to herself, that they are comfortable and they make her feel elegant in a way that is wholly unfamiliar but not completely unwelcome. Besides, with her own clothes out for washing she has little other choice.

She senses Ben approach from behind her and looks back to greet him with a quiet smile, one that he returns, his own smiles coming more easily these days. It still steals her breath away, the way the simple act of smiling makes him appear so much younger, less burdened. It makes him look very handsome as well, which is an added bonus in her opinion.

She moves her legs and pats the seat beside her in invitation but Ben shakes his head.

“I actually wanted to show you something before we left.” He says, holding his hand out to help her up. He’s always doing that, but she doesn’t mind. It’s just another excuse to feel his hand in hers as far as she is concerned, and she isn’t about to complain about that.

“What is it?” She asks, standing up.

“You had mentioned earlier that you wished you could see more of the city,” She nods. She had said something to that effect. Of course, it is far too dangerous for any of them to just go off, traipsing across the city simply to take in the sights. “There are gardens in the palace, ones that are closed to the general public expect for on special occasions and holidays. I’ve already asked Lando if we could have access – I think you’d like it.”

“That sound wonderful. Are you sure it’s alright?” Rey wraps her hand around his arm. He smiles again and nods.

He leads her through the hallways of the palace. She’s glad that he seems to know where he’s going, because she is certain that she would get lost quickly if left to her own devices. How was one supposed to tell one fully-white hallway from another? She wonders if Ben has been here before, as a child or even as an adult, as Kylo Ren.

He feels closed off, his shields stronger and higher than they have been in the past few weeks. Rey doesn’t say anything about it, even if they are a dyad Ben has the right to privacy if he wants it, but it does hurt a little. What might he be hiding from her? What would he want to hide?

The Cloud Gardens take Rey’s breath away. The name is apt, she thinks. The garden is not open-air but contained within a huge transparisteel dome. Clouds surround the structure on nearly every side, making Rey feel like she’s walking among them. Golden rays of sunlight stream through seams in the cloud cover, making the dew on the plants glitter like diamonds.

Rey wanders through the garden’s winding pathways, hand outstretched, wanting to touch _everything_. She wants to stroke the silken petals of every flower, touch each waxy leaf, all of them so vibrant, green, and alive. She even wants to dig her hands into the soft dirt below, moist and dark. She holds back from that though, not wanting to ruin the clothes Lando has lent her. She’s fairly sure the deep blue of her sleeveless tunic would be fine, but the pants… she’s still not sure how they’ll make it through dinner.

She glances back at Ben. He pays no mind to the splendor surrounding them, his attention trained solely on her, his eyes somehow both soft and intense in a way that is just so _Ben_. His mouth quirks up into a smile and Rey’s heart flutters. His eyes leave her for a moment to roam around the gardens. A tall rock formation sits in some approximation of the center of the domed structure – a waterfall. The soft sound of distant crashing water fills the air mixing with the audio recording of birds chirping away on some distant tropical planet.

“It’s beautiful here.” He says. “I remember my mother bringing me to this place when I was very young.” His smile grows a little sadder but does not falter. “It has always been a fond memory. He never tainted that one.”

“It is beautiful.” Rey says, taking a step towards him. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Ben, and for sharing _this_ with me.” She gestures around to the grand, surrounding gardens. “I remember thinking that Takodana had to be the most beautiful place in existence. It was so – green and alive, but there’s always somewhere more incredible out there, I suppose.” Ahch-To, Ajan Kloss, Alderaan, Yavin IV, even Hoth, as cold as it was – has all been so magnificent, like nothing she had ever even dared to imagine in her wildest dreams.

“The galaxy is full of beautiful places.” Ben says softly, taking Rey’s hand in his own. He begins walking slowly along the path. Rey follows at his side. “You should see them all – I’d like to show you.” He rubs his thumb along her knuckle.

“I’d like that.” She says, smiling, threading her fingers through his. “Though, I’m not sure when we’ll have time.” She laughs a little and it is only sort of a joke.

“We’ll have to find time.” He stops just in front of a large pane of transparisteel. Rey looks out to the world beyond, at the clouds colored pink and orange and gold. She feels almost like she could walk off into the sunset. “Rey, I -” She feels a sharp spike of nerves run through him, but he continues before she can question it. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while - I should have done it earlier, but I - I guess I wanted to do it somewhere beautiful, if I could. You deserve that, at least.”

“Do what?” Rey asks, something anxious and scared twisting angrily in her gut. “Ben,” She grasps his hand harder. “You’re trembling.”

“You asked me, after that first night on the _Falcon_ , what I was going to do when we got home.” Rey thinks that her heart may actually have skipped a beat. She sucks in a quick, deep breath and holds it as he continues. “I’m not sure what we’ll find when we get back home, _if_ we -” He stops himself, shaking his head. “All I know, what I need you to know, is that I will be wherever you are,” He says slowly, his words thick with meaning. He holds her hands tightly in both of his, looks deeply into her eyes. “No matter what that means.”

“Ben,” Rey says, her voice far too shaky. It is all she can manage to say. She can feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

“Even if that means I’m slapped in binders and sentenced to a hasty execution by your Resistance friends.” He jokes darkly. Rey frowns.

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” She vows. “Never.”

“I know.” He says with a smirk, his eyes softening. He extracts his hand from her grasp and begins to paw nervously at the pocket of his trousers. “I know you wouldn’t. I – here, for you.” He pulls something out of his pocket and holds it between them in both of his shaky hands.

The first thing she notices is the small green stone which is smooth and shines prettily in the warm light. A length of delicate copper wire has been wrapped around it to form a ring. Rey just looks at the thing for a moment, her mind in a fog. She blinks a few times, unable to process much of anything.

“I found this in the market on Utapau and I thought of you – you like green – so I took the wire and I -”

“You made this?” Rey asks looking up at him with wide eyes. She’s never owned a piece of jewelry before, let alone one someone had made for her. Her brain, unused to receiving gifts of any kind is already scrambling for ways to pay him back. How many portions is this ring worth?

“I did – in some cultures, one might give someone they care about a ring as an expression of love, or as – as a proposal of marriage.” He says, his voice wavering slightly.

“I know that.” Rey says a bit defensively, her eyes falling back to the ring in her hand.

There’d been no such custom on Jakku. What few unions there had been were ones of convenience, of merging resources, nothing more. They’d not been about love or starting families – neither of those things lasted very long in the desert. She has managed to see a couple of ramshackle weddings since joining the Resistance, ones full of laughs and joy, where hope for the future – for _a_ future – overwhelmed the constant undercurrent of fear for even just a day.

“Is that what this is?” She asks, her voice no more than a whisper. Every synapse of her brain is firing off at once and she can’t understand what he’s saying, what he means, but she _needs_ to.

“I -” Ben starts, but falters. He gasps and drops to one knee, hissing when he hits the ground a little too hard. “I’m not very good with words, I think you know that by now - and this went so poorly last time and I -”

“Last time?”

“Yes, it was a disaster – _I_ was a disaster. I was cruel and wrong – so wrong about so much. I should have gone with you, I…” He sighs. “I was a complete idiot about everything, but most of all – you’re not nothing, Rey. I never should have said that. You’re kind and intelligent and beautiful and everything that is good in the galaxy. You’re _everything_ to me.

“I know I don’t deserve you – and I know you don’t like to hear that, but it’s true.” He adds quickly. “But you make me want to, you make me want to try. You’re the first person to ever see my Darkness but care more about the Light. You fought for it, fought for me, even when I couldn’t – _wouldn’t_.” He corrects. “I want to spend every day of my life trying to be the person you think I can be, the person that deserves your love. So, yes, that is what this is.”

“Ben,” Rey says. She’s crying now, but they both are. She falls down onto her knees to meet him on the floor.

She hiccups a little, watery laugh. It’s almost funny, the idea of their being bound legally and by name should seem so insignificant when compared to the deeper more intrinsic way their souls are already tethered to each other’s. It’s not insignificant though, not to Ben and not to Rey. It’s everything either of them have ever wanted, a connection, proof that they are not alone, another person to make a choice and for that choice to be _them_ , a family.

“I want that – I want you.” She nods emphatically.

“You… Yes?”

“Yes.” Rey says, laughing even as tears streak down her face. She can’t say anything more, but she doesn’t have to. “Of course, yes.”

Ben’s hands are still shaking as he slides the ring onto her finger. He watches her face as he does it, his eyes full of love. He pulls her to him and kisses her soundly before pulling back to pepper her face with dozens of featherlight kisses. Rey’s heart has taken over her entire chest. She feels like she can hardly breathe, but it is in the best way possible.

Ben’s arms surround her, holding her tightly, so close she can feel his heartbeat through the layers of clothing that separate them. It feels like home, or what she imagines home would feel like, anyway. It is hers; he is hers.

 _Mine_. She thinks, her scavenger’s mind claiming, possessive.

 _Yours_. Ben responds. _Always yours._

 _The belonging you seek is not behind you… it is ahead._ Maz had told Rey back on Takodana, just before she met Ben. Who had known it would be both?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big moves this chapter - and what a fun one to write it was!
> 
> So I guess Daddy Darkness and his Sunshine Child (TM) really weren't invited to the great Skywalker family reunion! What a shame. I sure as heck hope no one tells them. It can really only lead to hurt feelings. Poor little sand gremlin Rey. I don't know why there are so many forks either - seems like a waste of resources! 
> 
> So, when I outlined this chapter I didn't have much of an idea of what would be happening in Leia's part (I think the outline reads _making contact w/ Alliance - more stuff?_ because I am very good at planning 🥴). I guess when I sat down to write it I decided 'okay, I guess I'm gonna make myself cry today.' Ben and Leia 😭. Like, my heart legit can't take it, I swear. On another note, I am _super_ happy that I was able to squeeze in a Ben & Leia braiding scene. My original idea was to have Ben braid Leia's hair, but I just couldn't find a way for that to work logically.
> 
> Oh yeah, and now Ben and Rey are engaged. 💍🔔💗 I've had the idea for this brewing for a while now. In my original plan, the ring was just going to be some copper wire or even like part of a root that Ben found as I just find the idea of hastily-made, hand-crafted engagement rings to be so romantic. Like, _I can't wait a second longer not knowing if you'll be mine forever, please accept this bread-tie ring_. Please, it gets me every time. I thought about bringing the 'Rey likes green' thing back and that's when the green-stone ring was born. Pictured below is what I imagine it looks like:
> 
> Thanks so, so much to everyone for their kudos and bookmarks and comments, I appreciate all of them so much! 💖 I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I've been excited for it for a while! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	31. Whatever Happened to Anakin Skywalker?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It does not matter, none of it can.” Another long, tense pause settles between them.
> 
> “None of what?” 
> 
> “Nothing,” His father answers sharply, his anger coming back for a quick moment before pulling back again. “Those burdens belong to Anakin Skywalker.”
> 
> \---
> 
> Luke and his dad discuss politics. Leia goes to the movies.
> 
> **CW: Brief mentions of pregnancy. Begins at 'She's in a bedroom' and ends at 'The scene shifts violently'.**

Luke spends most of his time aboard the _Devastator_ \- what a name that is - training with his father whose methods, both in lightsaber combat and in accessing the Force, are much more aggressive than Luke is used to. His father instructs him to grasp at the Force, to control it, bend it to his will, and he hates it. It is uncomfortable, unnatural, it makes his skin itch, it makes him feel too open, like a raw nerve.

He finds himself becoming angry or frustrated much more easily in the past few days than he ever has in his life. He’d felt these things back on Tatooine, of course, it would have been difficult not to feel embittered trapped on that moisture farm with seemingly little hope of ever leaving, but those harsher emotions had always been so fleeting, quickly giving way to softer, easier ones. They’d never clung to him as they do now, latching on and refusing to let go. Luke spends much of his time alone meditating just to keep himself from giving into that anger, much to his father’s frustration.

He’s just come out of one of those peaceful meditations when he feels his father’s presence nearby. He stands and clips his lightsaber to his belt. He’d been a little surprised when he’d been allowed to not only keep it, but to keep it on his person. He thinks that it might be a sign of trust on his father’s part, or perhaps it’s just that his father doesn’t believe he could do much damage on his own if he put his mind to it. Luke likes to imagine it’s the former reason rather than the latter.

He wanders out into the living area of his father’s quarters and towards the office - the only room his father spends any time in when he’s actually in his own apartments. The day he’d arrived on the ship Luke had explored the quarters thoroughly, purely out of curiosity, and he’d found that outside of the office, the living area, and his own bedroom and attached ‘fresher, all of the other rooms were completely empty – the others only mostly so. It would seem his father had not been exaggerating when he’d told Luke that he doesn’t sleep.

His father’s office, while being one of the only rooms in the living quarters that is furnished at all, is only very sparsely so. A single desk and chair sit in the middle of the room facing away from the large, wall-sized viewport and a comm station sits in the corner closest to the door. Luke’s father stands in front of the viewport, silhouetted by the bright white and blue lines of hyperspace - the only source of light in the room. He holds a datapad in one hand, but he is not looking at it, instead his attention is turned towards Luke.

“Son,” He says by way of greeting.

“Hello, Father.” Luke slips into the room, the door sliding closed behind him. He taps his fingers on his leg as he wanders around the shadowy office slowly, his father’s attention following him as he moves. “What are you doing?”

“Work,” His father answers. “Is there something you require?”

“No,” Luke says, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk and wincing as it is far too stiff and angular to be comfortable - he finds that true of most of the Empire’s furniture. At least his bed is comfortable, they managed to get mattresses right. “Is it alright if I sit here?”

He’s hoping that he can convince his father to take him down to the hangar so they can work on ships as they did yesterday. His father had been more relaxed, or, he’d seemed to be, freely speaking with Luke about modifications he had made to his TIE and ones he plans for the future. Their conversation hadn’t strayed from ships but had flowed easily and Luke is eager to try to capture that energy again if he can.

“Yes, that is alright.” His father says.

Luke looks down at the desk. A few datapads are strewn across the surface. The one closest to him is still on, but has gone into sleep-mode. The white, six-pointed insignia of the Empire glows back at him from the smooth, black of the screen. Luke frowns and turns it over only to find that the emblem is also etched into the back. He rolls his eyes. Of course it is.

“What kind of work?” He asks, shifting in the seat, trying, likely in vain, to get comfortable. His father turns to face him, his arms behind his back. “I’m just curious.” He adds with a sigh before his father can ask him _why_ he cares.

“I am looking into an account of a small rebellion in the Arkanis sector.” His father answers.

“Oh?” Luke sits up a little straighter. A rebellion - _the_ Rebellion? The last he remembers they were on Hoth in the Anoat sector, not the Arkanis sector, but Luke is not about to say as much out loud. “Why are they rebelling?” He asks instead.

“I do not concern myself with wondering _why_ these terrorists choose to oppose the Empire.” His father answers, his attention turning back to his datapad.

“Why not?” Luke asks, tilting his head. “People don’t just rebel for no reason, you know.”

“Their petty reasons are meaningless in the grander scope of the Empire.” His father answers. “They are a small group of miners protesting their working conditions, nothing more.”

“I’ll bet their reasons don’t seem so petty to them.” Luke challenges. “If they’re suffering, they’re going to lash out.”

“And who says they are suffering?”

“Lots of people suffer under the Empire.” Luke says firmly. He doesn’t know exactly why these people are striking back against the Empire, but he knows this much to be true.

“Many suffered under the Republic as well.” His father’s voice is harder now, his tone harshened by the metallic sounds of his vocoder. He can sense that he is testing his father’s already very limited patience, but something inside of him urges him to press on.

“So that makes it okay?”

“These people’s issues and lives are insignificant. If they must suffer it is for the greater good of the galaxy.”

“Insignificant,” Luke laughs humorlessly. “My life was insignificant too.”

“Your life is not insignificant.” His Father says firmly, glancing away from his datapad. “It is of much importance. Your destiny and the fate of the galaxy are closely intertwined.”

“So, let me get this straight… The Empire can work these people like slaves, and they can’t say anything about it because their lives mean nothing anyway?” He rolls his eyes. “Oh, and it’s all for the greater good of the galaxy.”

“These people are _not_ slaves.” His father turns to look at him fully.

“As if the Empire doesn’t have slaves.” Luke huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know for a fact that…”

The room goes cold, colder than Hoth, so cold Luke is surprised he can’t see his breath. It seems darker somehow, as though something physical is blocking the lights of hyperspace whizzing by outside. A couple of the datapads fly off of the desk and hit the wall, shattering. The durasteel of the walls around them creeks and moans. Luke falls from his seat and scrambles backwards. He has never felt anger like this coming from his father, so pure, so undiluted, so… directed at him.

“You have no idea what you are talking about.” His father says slowly. The trembling rage in the room lessens and then ebbs completely. Luke breathes slowly and deeply to help steady his racing heart, his gasping for air mingled with his father’s mechanical rasp are the only sounds in the room.

“I – I’m sorry.” Luke stammers. The apology coming easily even if he doesn’t quite know what it is he is apologizing for. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He lays his back against one of the walls, noticing that the panel behind him has been dented considerably. His father looks away from him and takes a step back.

“No, you did not.” He agrees. “You couldn’t have known.” The air in the room is cold again now, but it’s not from anger, it’s from some emotion Luke can’t name, something sad and regretful and a little ashamed.

“I couldn’t have known what?” Luke asks. He doesn’t wait for an apology from his father, he knows he won’t get one. Somehow, he finds the courage to pull himself back up into a standing position. His father doesn’t answer him, but Luke doesn’t let him get away with it, not this time. “I couldn’t have known _what_ , Father?” He repeats a little more forcefully. He opens his mouth, fully intent on asking a third time, but his father answers before he gets the chance.

“Anakin Skywalker was born a slave.” He says and Luke can feel no emotion behind his father’s words, nothing swirls around him. He is a void.

“Father,” Luke takes a step forward, the word catches in his throat.

He’s known slavery all his life, its presence constant if slightly distant on Tatooine. The Hutts had slaves and some of the larger farms did too. It’s the most despicable thing Luke can imagine, owning another being. His father had been a slave once, the idea leaves Luke breathless. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It does not matter any longer.” His father says after a long, quiet while. “That time is dead.”

“Clearly it still matters to you.” Luke says, shaking his head. His father wouldn’t have gotten so angry if it meant nothing to him any longer. _That time_ still causes him pain and is plainly far from dead.

“That is an incorrect assessment.” His father turns his back to him, both hands clasped behind it, datapad still clutched tightly in one gloved fist. “It does not matter, none of it can.” Another long, tense pause settles between them.

“None of what?”

“Nothing,” His father answers sharply, his anger coming back for a quick moment before pulling back again. “Those burdens belong to Anakin Skywalker.”

“But you _are_ Anakin Skywalker.” Luke stresses. He tries to take a step towards his father but finds his feet pinned to the ground by a force beyond his control. “My name is Luke Skywalker.” He says, his voice wavering against his will. “By claiming yourself as my father, you claim yourself as Anakin Skywalker.”

“That is not…” His father’s words are interrupted by the pulsing white and blue outside giving way to inky blackness dotted with pinpricks of light. “We have arrived.”

“Where are we?”

“I will explain everything after I have returned.” His father says, marching towards the door.

“Returned?” Luke shuffles quick to catch up with his father. “Where are you going?”

“Down to the planet. I have business to attend to.” He turns back to Luke as they reach the door leading out into the rest of the ship. “Do not worry yourself with it. I shall not be long.”

The door closes behind his father and Luke is left alone in the cold and the quiet. He slides down the smooth surface of the durasteel door and lands on the floor with a huff.

* * *

Leia wakes the next day feeling lighter than she has in months. The Alliance is coming, she is going to be reunited with her parents. She does her best to push down the gnawing worry she feels bubbling in the pit of her stomach – worry for Luke and worry about her _destiny_. She can’t dwell on any of that right now, it is not productive.

That worry is all but forgotten when she steps out into the living area where the others are already gathered. Ben and Rey have their backs to her, their attention on the holovid in the middle of the circular seating area, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her close. Leia’s eyes are drawn instantly to the girl’s braids. She claps her hand over her mouth to smother the delighted laugh that threatens to escape her. She rushes over, sliding smoothly into the seat beside Rey.

“Is it true?” She asks taking in Rey’s confusion and Ben’s slightly wary expression. She pulls the girl’s left hand into her lap and gasps at the ring she finds there. “Oh, congratulations!” She exclaims pulling Rey into an excited and probably too-tight hug. She stands quickly. “We should celebrate! I’ll order champagne…”

“I think it’s a little early in the morning for that, Leia.” Ben protests softly.

“We’ll order it with some hanava fruit juice then.” She says, waving her hand at him, dismissing his reluctance. “This is wonderful, I am so happy for the two of you.”

Rey beams back up at her with unbridled warmth. The betrothal braids woven into her hair are impeccable, though traditionally, at least one party’s familial braid is interwoven with the betrothal plait and she notices that aspect is missing in this design. That is, of course, not completely unheard of, and she should not really find it as curious as she does. She refuses to relive the embarrassing nosiness of last night, however, and elects to keep her mouth shut.

Eventually, Ben and Rey manage to talk Leia down from planning an impromptu brunch celebration and she is only a little bitter about it. However, if they think that she is not going to make a toast tonight at dinner, they have another thing coming.

It would be nice to have something to do, even if that something were only a frivolous distraction. She feels more relaxed now that she knows the Alliance is coming, of course, but she is back to the waiting that she so detests. Time moves so slowly with nothing to occupy her mind. Every time she glances at the chronometer it seems like only minutes have passed.

Leia finds herself pacing across the room just after midday. Only Ben remains in the sitting area with her, but he’s fallen asleep, head tilted to the side, a holobook lays forgotten on his chest. She wanders over, moving the holobook to the table beside his chair and covering him with a thin blanket as she suspects he did for her the other night when she fell asleep on the job.

He looks so much more peaceful when he’s asleep – though, she supposes that most do. He seems younger, less troubled. She reaches out to brush a bit of hair behind his ear but pulls her hand back at the last second, certain that _this_ would be a step too far.

“Should I be worried?” Han’s voice asks from behind her. She twirls around to find him leaning on the doorway to the corridor outside, arms crossed casually over his chest. Leia straightens herself and her hands pop up to her hips. He inclines his head to the sleeping man behind her and smirks.

“I didn’t peg you as the jealous type, Han.” She says playfully. She looks back at Ben. No, Han has nothing to fear from him. It is true that she feels a pull towards him that she has no way to explain, but it is decidedly _not_ romantic. She just… wants to protect him, as strange as that is. Something in her _aches_ to ensure that he is safe and content. Perhaps it stems from his saving her on the Death Star. Maybe this is what a life-debt feels like?

“Is there anything to be jealous of, _Princess_?” He asks, taking a step towards her, keeping his voice low. Leia raises one brow, it’s her turn to smirk for once. She ignores his question and steps around him, forcing him to turn and follow her.

“Where have you been?” She asks, running her fingers along the back of a chair, pretending that it is her sole focus, even when that could not be further from the truth.

“Chewie’n I are making sure the _Falcon_ ’s all set to head off once your Alliance pals get here.”

Leia stills, her face falling. She is suddenly very glad her back is to him. She takes a deep breath before continuing.

“So you’ll be leaving then, now that your job is over?” She can feel the iciness in her tone. It does little to ease the sharp pain blooming in her chest.

“Well,” Han begins slowly, his tone thick with discomfort. “Maybe not right away…” She hides her smile before turning around to face him again. He’s looking away from her, his eyes on the ground, his hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.

“Of course,” Leia says, keeping her voice even. “You’ll need to collect payment from my father.”

“Yeah,” Han agrees with a nod. “And maybe… well, I’ve got a lot of heat on me, so I should probably lay low for a while.”

“Probably,” Leia agrees softly. She takes a step towards him and places a hand on his chest. His eyes meet hers and he doesn’t smirk, he smiles. His hand comes up to her cheek and for a moment they just look at each other, but whatever spell had settled over them is broken by a sleepy grunt from the chair beside them. Ben tosses his head to the other side, his brows furrowed. He pulls his blanket tighter around his body.

“I should get goin’,” Han says, leaning down to press a kiss to Leia’s temple. She watches him leave with a small smile.

The moment the door closes she feels… something. It’s like a rope tied around her middle. It pulls her and her legs comply. Dazedly, she follows the _feeling_ , not knowing what else to call it, through the apartments Lando has been providing them, through the living space, through the door to the room that Ben and Rey have claimed as their own. The sound of running water assures her that Rey is still in the shower.

Leia knows she shouldn’t be here. It’s rude, for one, just barging into someone’s room when they aren’t around, but there’s also something elemental telling her that she should not be in this place. She can’t think about that now, though, because she sees the thing the feeling is pulling her towards - Rey’s lightsaber. It seems to be glowing, even though Leia knows that it is not. The hilt rests on the smooth, white surface of a dresser. That _feeling_ compels her to reach out, to touch it, and Leia’s body, it would seem, is loath to deny it anything.

The second her fingers brush against the metal of the hilt it’s like the floor drops out from below her. She thinks she might be screaming, but she can’t tell because all sound has dulled to a constant low roar. All of the air is sucked out of the room at once and Leia simply can’t breathe. She is falling, she knows that much for sure, and everything goes dark.

When she lands she is in a well-lit circular room, tall windows look out onto the massive city outside – Imperial City, Leia thinks. Robed figures sit in chairs lining the walls, they seem to be considering the boy in center of the room. Small, and clearly frightened, the boy looks at the figures from under a mop of light blond hair. Leia recognizes exactly one of the robed beings, Master Yoda.

“Your thoughts dwell on your mother.” One of the figures says coolly.

“I miss her.” The boy replies, as though that should be obvious.

“Afraid to lose her, I think, hmm?” Yoda says. The comment only seems to make the boy’s fear more pronounced. “Fear is a path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.”

“What’s going to happen to me now?” The boy’s voice rings out, though no one is speaking. The voice fills Leia’s head, so loud it is almost painful. She cries out but she has no voice of her own.

Then, the room is spinning again. Color and light and dark whirl around Leia and she is sure she will be sick. She takes a step back and the swirling stops. She can’t tell where she is now, her surroundings are dark, the only thing she can make out are the two people ahead of her. A man dressed in dark browns and blacks and a woman in white stand side-by-side in a crude-looking chariot, their hands in shock-binders. A sad, quiet look passes between them.

“I love you.” The woman says. The man, for his part, seems surprised.

“I thought we had decided not to fall in love - that it would destroy our lives.” He says morosely.

“I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway.”

Leia studies the woman’s face as best she can. Somehow, she recognizes her. When she was young, Leia would often dream of a sad, beautiful woman, one with her own brown hair and dark eyes - _this_ is the woman from her dreams. This is her mother, which means the man – is her father, is _Vader_.

Both the scene and the floor beneath Leia’s feet slide away. When the world stops moving and the ground becomes solid and still beneath her feet, Leia can see that her surroundings have changed yet again.

She’s in a bedroom, city lights shine in through the large, rounded windows to the left of the bed, illuminating the scene. Leia’s mother and Vader lay against the headboard of the large bed, one cybernetic arm wrapped around her shoulders, his other hand rests gently, almost reverently on the swell of the woman’s stomach. They are dressed in bedclothes. Leia’s mother wears a flowing, silken nightgown while Vader wears nothing but sleep pants.

“It’s going to be a girl.” He says with a smile. The sight turns Leia’s stomach. He looks so _human_. She could pass him on the street and would have no idea of the wretched, black heart that beats in his chest. How could such evil be contained in such an ordinary, unsuspecting container?

“How can you be so sure?” Leia’s mother asks, her eyes shining as she looks on Vader, her husband, the monster. She couldn’t have known, Leia decides, no one could look on a person with such love and know what a vile creature they could possibly become.

“Call it fatherly intuition.” Vader responds, his tone teasing. He turns his smile up at his wife who laughs. They act like any other married couple Leia’s ever known; her own parents included. It is all so bizarrely _domestic_. It’s upsetting and confusing and she has no idea what to make of any of it.

“I don’t think that’s a thing, Ani.” Leia’s mother chastises playfully, stroking his curls with one hand.

“Well, call it the _Force_ , then.”

“That’s cheating.” She says, her mouth dipping into a mock frown. The faux sadness only lasts for a moment though before her bright smile returns. “Do you have any names in mind?”

“Leia,” Vader says without missing a beat. Leia’s heart stutters in her chest. _He_ had chosen her name? How much of her life would he taint?

“And _when_ it’s a boy - Luke.” Leia’s mother says, beaming down at her stomach.

“Luke,” Vader says, testing the name. He smiles. “I like that - but she’s going to be a girl.” He leans over to press a kiss to his wife’s lips. He beams down at where his hand lays on her stomach, a nearly inaudible laugh escaping him. “Feel that? A kick that hard – that was _definitely_ a girl’s kick.” He leans down to kiss Leia’s mother’s stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you, Leia.” He whispers.

The scene shifts violently again, the bedroom and the happy couple dissolve away and she is in a dark office, the only light coming from the city outside. A struggle has happened here recently, that much is clear, shattered glass litters the ground. Two men, one standing, one sitting against the back of a rounded bench, are alone amidst the grim chaos.

Leia immediately recognizes the disfigured continence of Emperor Palpatine, having had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting him after becoming a senator. The other man, the one sitting before the Emperor, is Vader - still human. He is crying, Leia notices, and something angry in her stomach tries to flip over into pity but she does not let it.

“What have I done?” He cries, tears streaming down his face. He looks at his hands in… horror? Shame? Leia can’t tell.

“You’re fulfilling your destiny, Anakin.” The Emperor’s words seem to take a toll on Vader who has to brace himself on his knees, his breathing labored. “Become my apprentice, learn to use the Dark Side of the Force.”

“I will do whatever you – you ask.” Vader says, his words stilted. “Just help me save Padmé’s life.” A pained look crosses over his face as he falls forward onto his knees. “I can’t live without her.” Vader’s voice cracks with emotion around the words.

“Rise, Lord Vader.” The Emperor commands.

The office walls dissolve into darkness and pipes and exposed wires. A dark figure, a dreadfully familiar black suit, rises slowly on a slab. Vader, now hidden behind his mask, turns to the Emperor who stands nearby.

“Where is Padmé? Is she safe? Is she alright?” Vader asks, his deep, mechanical baritone echoing horribly.

“It would seem,” The Emperor begins, his voice horrible and ragged and cruel. “That in your anger, you killed her.”

Vader screams in agony, in disbelief. He rips his arms from their restraints. Pipes burst and machinery explodes, his rage uncontained.

Horrified, Leia takes a step backwards, only to feel cold, leather-clad hands grab her arms roughly from behind. She cranes her neck to look back and sees that Vader is now right behind her. She tries to scream, to call for help, but she can’t. It is only when she looks around that she realizes she is not on Bespin, she is in a command room of some kind, on a ship, she thinks. Imperial officers sit before blinking consoles. Leia tries to rip herself from Vader’s grasp, but her body will not obey her commands.

“You may fire when ready.” A crisp voice nearby orders - Grand Moff Tarkin nods to an officer.

Leia’s head whips around to face a large viewport. A planet, blue and green with swirling white clouds, hangs in the blackness before her. _Alderaan_ , she realizes in horror. She tries to fight, she tries to scream, tries to call on the Force, but nothing happens, nothing works. She can only watch as a laserbeam, vile and green, hits Alderaan and her home, her planet is no more – everything she knows and loves reduced to nothing but stardust.

Finally released from Vader’s iron hold, Leia falls to the ground, her legs too weak with shock to support her any longer. She is on her knees as the world spins again. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and pulls at her hair, just wanting all of this to be over. Nausea bubbles threateningly in her stomach, she can taste bile on her tongue. She is certain that she will be sick now. She sucks in a deep breath but it doesn’t fill her lungs.

Voices fly around her, coming from seemingly every direction. She recognizes some of them, names spilling into her mind even as the rushed cacophony of sound assaults her.

“The son of Skywalker must not become a Jedi.”

“He will join us or die.”

“There is no escape, don’t make me destroy you.”

“I’ll never join you!”

“Search your feelings father – you can’t do this. I feel the conflict within you. Let go of your hate!”

“It is… too late for me, son.”

The voices are drowned out by horrific, pained screaming. Leia opens her eyes and she sees Luke before her, his body huddled in on itself, his arms and legs brought up to his middle protectively. The Emperor stands before a throne, white-blue lightning crackling from his fingers and curling around Luke’s twitching body.

“Father!” Luke cries out in pain. “Father, please!”

Vader stands beside the Emperor, his mask as impassive as ever, doing _nothing_. Leia wants to scream at the monster, scream that Luke is his son, that Luke loves him, for whatever reason, but her voice is gone.

She stands shakily. As she rises, the world tilts again.

“You cannot deny the truth that is your family.” A voice she doesn’t know rattles through Leia’s bones, churns her blood, her entire being vibrates with the sound. Tears prick her eyes at the unsettling sensation.

She is surrounded by blood red walls that give way to shadows. A masked figure, cloaked in darkness, kneels on the smooth, polished ground before a tall being, their species unknown to Leia.

“Take that ridiculous thing off.” The alien commands with a sneer making the large gash marring the side of their face all the more prominent.

The kneeling figure reluctantly reaches up and lifts their helmet from their head, the thing releasing with a pressurized _hiss_. Leia gasps, though no sound escapes her, when she sees that the figure, the man – is _Ben_. He looks… unwell. Dark purple and black circles hang heavily under his eyes, the scar that bisects the right side of his face seems fresher, somehow, and is stitched together with thick, black sutures. His eyes are dark and hard but glisten with clear distress.

“Yes, there it is,” The alien breathes heavily, it’s voice rough. “You have too much of your father’s heart in you – _Young Solo_.” The creature growls. Leia looks between the two of them, unable to understand their words as they are spoken. Solo? What does the alien mean by that? Why are they calling Ben ‘Young Solo’ and why does he seem so affected by it? _Too much of his father’s heart_ – what does that mean? She can’t make sense of any of it. It’s almost as though her mind refuses to.

“I _killed_ Han Solo,” Ben spits back with more vitriol than Leia has ever seen. He practically snarls with pure, unadulterated hate. “When the moment came, I didn’t hesitate!”

What? Ben hasn’t – Han is alive, Leia only just saw him moments ago. Why would he kill Han? She can feel tears tracking down her cheeks as she shakes her head in horror and disbelief. None of this makes sense.

“And look at you,” The alien growls angrily. “The deed split your spirit to the bone. You were _unbalanced_ ,” The creature howls. “Bested by a girl who had never held a lightsaber – you _failed_!”

Ben stands quickly, shouldering off his dark cape in a rage. The red-clad guards that line the room point their weapons at him, but he pays them no mind, his attention trained on the alien. The creature spins around quickly and bright white lightning shoots from their hand and onto the floor at Ben’s feet, sending him flying backwards. Leia squeezes her eyes shut and screams, but this time she actually hears her voice.

“Leia, Leia – it’s alright.” A familiar voice soothes.

Leia’s eyes fly open. She is lying on the floor of Ben and Rey’s room, her head resting on the latter’s lap. That _blasted_ lightsaber is gripped tightly in her right hand. Leia throws it at the wall as though it has burned her, though what it had actually done is much worse.

“What happened to her?” Ben’s voice asks shakily from somewhere Leia can’t see. She flinches at the sound, the memory of that other Ben, the hateful one, the one who claimed to have killed Han, still so fresh in her mind. When she closes her eyes she can see him again, all anger and pain. “Is she alright?”

“It must have been the saber, the first time I touched it I had… visions.” Rey says softly, perhaps not intending for Leia to hear. It doesn’t matter, she can hardly understand what they’re saying anyway. “It’s alright, Leia, it wasn’t real.” Rey reassures, one of the girl’s hands gently stroking Leia’s hair.

Leia sits up, and that is a mistake. Her head spins and for a terrifying moment she fears that she will be plunged back into that nightmare. She shakes her head, and not just to relieve the sensation of lightheadedness.

“No,” She rasps quietly, her throat burning. “No,” She says, because it _was_ real – all of it.

* * *

Leia looks between Ben and Rey and backs away on shaky legs. Her eyes wide and just a little wild, her chest heaving. Ben takes a cautious step forward and Leia stumbles back, her eyes flicking quickly to the door and then back at them. There are so many overwhelming and disorienting emotions flying around the room – fear, confusion, anger, sorrow – Rey can’t tell what is coming from who.

“Leia, it’s alright,” Rey says softly, lifting her hands in front of her chest to show that she means no harm. Rey remembers her own Force visions brought on by the lightsaber. They’d been so real, so physical – snapping back to reality had been distressing, to say the least.

“Ben,” Leia breathes, her jaw trembling. She opens her mouth and closes it again, her jaw working through unspoken words. “What is your… your last name?”

Rey looks back at Ben who pales, his eyes going wide. He inhales sharply before squeezing his lips together tightly. Pain and panic _pour_ from his end of the bond so palpably Rey can feel them gripping her own heart, holding it vice-like, syncopating the rhythm of its beats.

“Leia, I –” He starts, his voice so small and broken sounding.

“Answer me!” Leia demands, her eyes going hard. She balls her hands into tight fists by her side.

Rey looks back and forth, from mother to son. The truth hangs between them on a thread, one that threatens to break at any moment. Rey wonders if she should say something – but what? _That_ truth, it isn’t hers to tell, but no one is saying anything at all now and it’s driving her mad.

“What did you see?” Ben asks finally. The words leave him in a rushed exhale as though he’d been holding his breath.

“Who _are_ the two of you?” She asks, eyes narrowing. She looks between the two of them in clear suspicion – but of what? What does she know? What does she _think_ she knows?

“Tell us what you saw, Leia, please.” Rey pleads as Leia begins skirting around the perimeter of the room towards the door. Neither Rey nor Ben make any move to stop her. “We’ll explain everything, I promise.”

“No,” Leia shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know what I saw – It doesn’t make sense. It can’t be – I…” She backs out of the bedroom and into the living area. She doesn’t take her eyes off of them as she stumbles towards the door to her own sleeping quarters, nearly tripping over a table in the process.

Rey and Ben stand alone in the tense silence. Ben flinches as his mother’s door slides closed behind her even though it makes no sound. Rey crosses the room after a beat, wrapping her arms around Ben’s waist and burying her face in his chest. He doesn’t move but she holds him tightly, as tightly as she wished she’d been held all of those lonely nights on Jakku, as tightly as she senses he needs now. Slowly, he slides out of her grasp, collapsing onto the end of the bed just behind him.

“She saw something,” He says quietly, his back bowed. “Something from our time. Something that made her – she’s frightened of me.” Rey brushes her hand through his hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“We don’t know what she saw.” Rey says plainly, her lips still pressed to one of the braids in his hair. “Let her calm down a bit. I’ve been through this once before myself, and all I wanted to do then was run away.” She frowns a little. “It’s very upsetting and disorienting. When she’s ready we’ll explain.”

“Explain,” He scoffs. “How do we do that?” Rey takes his face in both of her hands and points it upwards to look at her.

“We’ll be honest with her.” Rey says gently. She kisses his tense, furrowed brows, trying to soothe the worry there.

“I don’t know if that’s a very good idea.” Ben says, looking away into the distance behind Rey.

“There are worse things than Han and Leia finding out you’re their son.” Rey says softly. His sad, dark, disbelieving eyes turn to meet hers again. “Maybe we _should_ tell them.” She muses quietly. “I don’t like this – all of this lying. It’s getting too complicated. I never know what I can say to anyone. I think it’s time.” She finishes firmly. “You said it yourself, we have no idea how much longer we’ll be here. How much longer can we really keep this up without telling them?”

Ben says nothing. He buries his face in her stomach, hiding a heavy sob there. He grips her sides tightly. Rey runs the tips of her fingers gently along the top of his head comfortingly. She tucks a bit of hair behind his ear and keeps him close, allowing him to cry. She senses how frightened he is.

“They won’t hate you.” She says quietly, answering his unasked question. “They never have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... welcome back to flashback city, it is I, the mayor. I swear, it might not seem like it, but I held myself back. I had a full page of possible scenes to include both from the films themselves and made up ones and I struggled to trim it down to only the ones used. I think I've said this before, but I would be perfectly content to just write characters watching scenes from other character's lives and have them react, like 'whoa! that's nuts!' or 'didn't see that one coming!' 🤣 Probably wouldn't make for a very good story, though. Such is life.
> 
> More Luke and Vader in this chapter, something that is always fun to write. Originally I was going to let them have a nice, chill scene where they work on Vader's TIE or something and just kind of vibe over flying and ships in general but then I was like - but what if I made them sad, though? Of course, I could not resist the angst.
> 
> Poor Ben and Rey - well, poor Leia, but you get what I mean. They've got a few Hard Conversations (TM) coming up, don't they? 😏 Unrelated, but I don't think that Leia enjoyed her trip to the movies very much! 😭 Sorry, girl!
> 
> Thanks, as always, to everyone for the kudos and bookmarks and comments. I love hearing what you all think! 🥰 Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	32. If Me and My Gang Pull Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You stay here, make sure Leia doesn’t… leave, or anything. I’ll be back soon.” She assures.
> 
> “Don’t worry,” He huffs a short breath, the sound far too sad to be called a laugh. “She’s not going to come out if I’m here.”
> 
> “Ben,” Rey says, taking his face in both of her hands and forcing him to look up at her. He isn’t crying any longer, not properly, but tears still glisten in his dark eyes. “Everything is going to be alright. I love you.” She adds before kissing him softly.
> 
> \---
> 
> Everyone is straight up having a bad time - except for Vader, he's kind of vibing.

“I’m going to find Han.” Rey says after allowing Ben a moment to calm down. Whatever they decide to tell Han and Leia, however much of the truth they reveal, Rey is certain that it is a conversation Ben will want to have once and only once. “Ahsoka too, I think.” She adds biting her lip. The truth of their situation, no matter how sincere, is one that is difficult to believe. They’ll need back up.

Ben only nods solemnly in response. Rey takes his hands and pulls him into the living area before depositing him into one of the chairs there. He doesn’t fight her. She runs her fingers through his hair soothingly as she fights back a frown. She hates seeing him so despondent.

“You stay here, make sure Leia doesn’t… leave, or anything. I’ll be back soon.” She assures.

“Don’t worry,” He huffs a short breath, the sound far too sad to be called a laugh. “She’s not going to come out if I’m here.”

“Ben,” Rey says, taking his face in both of her hands and forcing him to look up at her. He isn’t crying any longer, not properly, but tears still glisten in his dark eyes. “Everything is going to be alright. I love you.” She adds before kissing him softly.

It hurts to leave him when she knows how much pain he is in, how close he is to caving in on himself again, but there’s nothing to be done for it. He’ll be fine here on his own for a bit. She won’t be long. She already knows that Han and Chewie are with the _Falcon_ , making sure the ship is ready to leave whenever the Alliance transport arrives, so she heads down the still mostly unfamiliar halls towards the landing platform they arrived on.

She twirls the ring Ben gave her around her finger absentmindedly, trying to keep track of the turns she makes, trying to find points of interest to use as waypoint so she can find her way back. Really, how did people live in palaces? They are altogether far too massive. As she approaches the landing platform, she senses something, a cold tingling sensation starting at the base of her neck and travelling down the length of her spine. _Danger_ ; something is very wrong.

She grasps at the lightsaber hilt at her hip and unclips it, slowing and quieting her steps. She presses her back up against the wall as she reaches an intersection in the corridor. Peaking her head around, she doesn’t see anyone – at first. Just as she is about to round the corner, a figure clad in white duraplast armor wanders into her line of sight. She inhales sharply and a hand that is not her own clamps down around her mouth, quieting her. She looks back to see Ahsoka who presses a single finger from her free hand to her lips. Rey nods in understanding and Ahsoka releases her from her grip.

Ahsoka silently points up to the loosened grate of a vent just below the ceiling, drawing Rey’s attention to it before hoisting herself up and climbing into the wall. Rey follows as quietly as possible, thankful for her foresight to change into more manageable clothing. She replaces the grate behind her – and not a second too soon. The moment she is safely inside the wall, two Stormtroopers march past where she had just been. She sighs quietly in relief before turning to face Ahsoka as best she can in the tight space.

“What’s going on?” She hisses.

“Not sure yet,” Ahsoka says crouching down to begin moving along the length of the vent. “I sensed something was wrong the second they arrived and went to go check it out. Nearly got caught too, same as you, but luckily they didn’t see me.”

“They? Who’s they?”

“Some bounty hunter, don’t know the name. They’ve got a whole squadron of troopers with them.” She ducks to a crawl as the vent becomes narrower. “Hope you’re not claustrophobic.” She jokes.

“This is spacious compared to what I’m used to.” Rey responds with a rueful laugh. The walls of the vent don’t even touch both of her shoulders, boxing her in, and at least they are smooth and not rusted with jutting metal sticking out at odd angles. She doesn’t have to worry about the bottom dropping out from under her here either. Compared to the star destroyers on Jakku, this vent is practically luxurious.

“Sorry to hear that.” Ahsoka mutters, though not unkindly. “Last I saw they had Lando with them, though it didn’t look like he’d gone very willingly. They were headed towards where the ship is docked.”

“Han,” Rey breathes.

“Exactly.” Ahsoka agrees. “We should have listened to -” She starts but stops short as voices sound in the hallway below them.

“Lando, I swear, when I get out of this…” Han growls. Chewie finishes the thought for him, vowing pay back.

“Shut up, Solo.” An unfamiliar feminine voice says, her words followed by a loud _thwack_. “My instructions are to bring you and the girl in alive _if possible_. Do yourself a favor and don’t upset me.”

“Listen, you don’t gotta drag anyone else into this.” Han says, his voice a little bit more amiable than before. “Jabba wants his money? I’ve got it and then some, all on my ship, if you’ll just let me…” The unknown woman laughs, interrupting Han.

“You think this is about your debt with Jabba? No, this is something much bigger.” She pauses for a moment. “Where’s the girl? Bring her here.”

“What do you even want with her, you…” Han is cut off by another loud _whack_.

“I’m not kidding, Solo. One more word out of you - Get her down here now, Calrissian.” Rey hears someone sigh and the beeping of a comm.

“Rey - Rey are you there?” Lando asks, his voice lacking its usual flare.

“ _Mistress Rey stepped out only a moment ago,”_ The tinny voice of C-3PO relays after a few moments of tense silence. “ _I believe she will return shortly, can I take a message?_ ”

“Tell her Han’s looking for her - needs some help with the _Falcon_.” He pauses and the comm beeps again. “What?” He asks, sounding more than a little annoyed. “What else do you expect me to do? I can’t exactly order her to ‘get down here immediately’.”

“You’ve got three seconds to come up with a better solution than that, Calrissian. One…”

Rey and Ahsoka look at each other simultaneously and nod, communicating without the need for words. Ahsoka rears back and kicks out the vent grate, allowing her and Rey, lightsabers ablaze, to jump from their hiding spot, catching the squadron and bounty hunter by surprise.

The bounty hunter, a female Chiss, whirls around to face them, one hand wrapped around Lando’s arm and the other holding a blaster to his side. Han and Chewie kneel on the floor behind them, each with two trooper’s blasters trained on their heads. The bounty hunter looks from Rey to Ahsoka, her red eyes flicking between their faces and sabers. A wicked smile spreads across her face.

“Well, I guess this works too.” She says, pressing a button on the side of her wrist comm unit.

* * *

Ben sits alone in the silence looking down at his hands clasped between his knees. He stares at them, but he doesn’t really see them. All he can see are his mother’s eyes, the shock, horror, and betrayal they had held when she’d looked at him - everything he’s ever feared seeing there should they ever meet again. Now he has to _tell_ her, of course, her and his father - likely Chewie as well.

He laughs to himself bitterly. It’s almost ironic. His only goal in the beginning had been ensuring his own birth, saving the miserable life he had made for himself. Now that he finally has something worth living for, a future he actually longs to see, he might never be born at all.

He can’t be certain that telling them will have any impact on _his_ life, of course. He’s long suspected that this time, as different from his own past as it is, may be some sort of… alternate timeline. It seems a bit wild, but he is far past the point of thinking anything is too unbelievable. Even without considering the changes made in this time, he’s spent far too much time around both of his parents for them to not remember him, or Rey, for that matter. Even if he never tells them, they would eventually notice their son growing to resemble the temperamental, brooding man they once knew.

Of course, he has no idea how _time travel_ works. He could very well cease to exist the moment the words ‘ _I am your son_ ’ fall from his lips. He hopes that doesn’t happen, mostly for Rey’s sake. He couldn’t stand it if he left her alone, not after everything he’s promised her. Not that it would matter much what he could and couldn’t stand if he stopped existing. Would he be returned to the Cosmic Force? Would he just… never be? The thought frightens him more than he’d imagined it would, especially for how often he’d wished he’d never been born as a child, so he tries not to think on it too long.

Buzzing from the intercom near the door pulls him from his ruminations on existence.

“ _Rey,_ ” The static-laced voice ringing through the comm is clearly Lando’s, but something sounds off. “ _Rey, are you there?_ ”

“Mistress Rey stepped out only a moment ago,” C-3PO, who had waddled over as Lando spoke, answers. “I believe she will return shortly, can I take a message?”

“ _Tell her Han’s looking for her - needs some help with the_ Falcon _._ ” Lando answers.

Why would Han have Lando comm Rey asking for help with the _Falcon_? Rey had known Han was on the landing platform working on his ship, surely she would have made it to him by now - unless she went looking for Ahsoka first? Something doesn’t feel right. Ben reaches out for her tentatively and immediately a wave of panic was over him.

 _It’s a trap, Ben._ Rey relays through their bond. _Some woman has Han and Chewie captive, Lando too, I think. She wants me, I don’t know - I have to go._

 _Rey!_ He calls out to no response.

Ben is up in a second, flying to the still-closed, and likely locked, door of his mother’s chosen sleeping quarters. He knocks on the door frantically.

“Leia!” He calls out, fist pounding hard against the door. “Leia, I know you don’t want to see me, I understand, but we need to go.” He pauses. “Please, answer me!” There’s no response and Ben sighs, his head falling against the cool surface of the door. “I’m going to open the door now, Leia.” He warns, doing everything he can to sound as calm and non-threatening as possible. “I’m so sorry,”

Ben lifts his hand, intent on resetting the locking mechanism of the door with the Force. He stills completely when he hears the door to the apartments slide open with a soft _woosh_ behind him. Time seems to stop as he zeros in on the sound. For a single second he allows himself to hope that it’s Rey, that she’s already handled whatever danger she’d encountered, that she’s safe and here and that he has nothing more to worry about than a difficult conversation with his parents. The mechanical rasp of Vader’s breathing dissolves any hope blooming in Ben’s chest.

He whips around instantly, hand still outstretched. He calls his lightsaber to him from where he’d left it on the other side of the room and ignites it instantly. The blade still crackles with instability as he’d not had the time or the energy to entirely reform the crystal powering the saber, but it now glows a bright, luminous white. He no longer feels hate and anger and pain streaming from the weapon, kindling the rage in his blood, suffusing him with Dark power. It feels at peace.

“You have abandoned the Dark Side.” Vader muses, crossing the threshold of the apartments. He does not draw his lightsaber. _Not yet_ , Ben thinks. “But you never fully embraced it, did you? You were too weak.”

Ben waits a moment, bracing himself for the sting sure to follow his grandfather’s censure, his complete and utter dismissal – but it never comes. Ben laughs quietly to himself, bemused but pleasantly so. This judgement and absolute rejection which had once been Ben’s greatest fear means less than nothing to him now. He does not need his grandfather’s approval. He pities him.

He can sense how his grandfather is drenched in the cold, black ick of the Dark Side, how he is drowning in it. Ben had been there once, his body nothing more than a vessel for that corrupting influence fueled by pain and misery and anger, desperate for power in the hopes that it would make him whole. It didn’t. He’d had power, had ruled the galaxy for six standard months, no matter how poorly, and he’d felt emptier than ever before. The Dark Side had carved him out, left him hollow, so he allows the Light to fill him now.

“Is that what I am?” He taunts, knowing as he does so that he is being reckless. “I don’t feel particularly weak.” He twirls his lightsaber by his side. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Where is my daughter?” Vader questions, ignoring Ben completely. “I can sense that she is near.”

Ben needs to keep Leia far away from Vader, this much he knows to be true. He and his mother share a bond, one much weaker than what he shares with Rey, of course, but a bond all the same. When he was a very small child she would use it to check in on him while she was at work and he was home alone – with the droids, of course – and then later when he’d been sent away to train with Luke. Ben had closed it around the time he was fifteen or sixteen, a moody teen tired of her concern – fake, he’d assumed at the time. He opens it for the first time in years. Her fear and confusion engulfs him, but he pushes past it, sending her gentle, tentative reassurance.

 _Leia,_ he begins, forcing himself to sound as calm as possible. _Do not come out of that room until I tell you it’s safe._ He instructs.

Ben and Vader begin skirting the perimeter of the rounded room, each of them stalking the other like predators, ready to strike. Vader ignites his own lightsaber, the red blade casting a harsh glow on the otherwise bright surroundings.

“Do not make me destroy you.” Vader says. “We could have worked together. Stand aside now and perhaps we still can. Give my daughter to me and I shall show you mercy.”

 _Mercy_. Ben almost laughs at the idea of Vader showing anyone standing in his way mercy, even if that person is his grandson. He doubts that there is a benevolent bone in his grandfather’s body. He’d choked his own wife in a rage, nearly killed Ben’s grandmother, the woman he loved – how could Ben expect anything less from him now? Vader is too steeped in the Dark Side, too…

No, Vader isn’t too far gone. Ben already knows this to be a fact. His grandfather will turn, will come back to the Light. Ben doesn’t believe in destiny, not any longer, but he still feels this to be true. Neither he nor his grandfather were made for the Dark Side, and it does not have to be their paths forever. Vader was saved by the compassion of his son. Why should it be too late for him but not for Ben?

“You’re so right.” Ben says, flicking off his lightsaber. If his grandfather is surprised, he doesn’t show it, but that is one of the benefits of wearing a mask. “We _can_ still work together. Let go of your hate, grandfather.” Vader freezes and Ben can feel his anger growing as the room gets colder but he presses on. “You can’t fight the Light inside of you, no one knows that better than I do, and there _is_ still Light inside of you. Your son saw it, he told me about it.” Vader ignites his saber and takes a step closer to Ben. “He told me about how you saved him. He never told me why, not then, but he said that the good in you won out in the end… Anakin -”

Vader swings his lightsaber in a long arch across his body, aiming for Ben’s neck. Ben manages to dodge the deadly, red blade just in time. Ben reignites his saber and just manages to deflect Vader’s next blow. He backs up, remaining on the defensive, blocking Vader’s swings without attacking, but he knows that he can only keep this up for so long. Vader is clearly the superior dualist and while Ben can hold his own for a while, it is only a matter of time before he slips and Vader manages to land the killing blow – because he _is_ trying to kill Ben now, that much is abundantly clear.

Ben finds that space in his mind where the bond resides, currently dormant but still glowing golden and warm. He tugs on it and the air is sucked from the room, the tingling at the base of his skull intensifies before he is overwhelmed by her presence. She fills the room with Light.

“Han, Chewie, get over here. No, look out, you’ve got –” She gasps as the bond opens, crouched behind a chair, breathing heavily. She looks up at him with wide eyes and screams as Vader attempts to lob Ben’s head off yet again. Ben narrowly avoids the decapitation and rushes over, grabbing Rey’s arm to strengthen their connection. For a moment, when his hand makes contact with the skin of her forearm, he sees bright, red blaster bolts coming straight for him. He doesn’t have times to dodge them, but he lets go of Rey’s arm and they pass through his chest harmlessly before disappearing into the ether behind him.

There’s no time for communication, not with battles waging on both of their sides of reality, but it’s not necessary either. They both open themselves fully to the other, their souls merging into something much larger and more powerful that either of them separately. He knows her every thought and emotion as though it were his own and the same is true for her.

 _This_ was what they were training for on Dagobah, this very moment. The part of them that belongs to Rey reaches out towards Vader, both physically and in the Force and the part of them that belongs to Ben follows suit. They concentrate their combined power and push it outwards. Vader flies back and hits the wall with a loud _thud,_ completely immobilized.

They can feel Ben’s grandfather struggling against their hold and the part that belongs to Ben glows a little smugly, happy to finally be on the other end of this particular struggle with the Sith Lord. Keeping him held there will only do them so much good, and only for so long as the bond remains open. They will have to work on completely incapacitating him, but Ben wants to ensure that Leia is safe first.

Ben walks towards his mother’s room, still concentrating the Force on holding his grandfather to the wall, but stops when he hears a short shout. He hisses as a throbbing, sharp pain blooms on his shoulder. He looks back to see Rey nursing a wound in the same spot.

He rushes back to her without a second thought but finds himself frozen, his arms snapping to his sides. An unseen force spins him around in the air and makes him hit the ground on his knees hard. He hears Rey sliding over before he sees her. She is also kneeling, also held captive by his grandfather’s power.

Vader rises and approaches them slowly, every step a threat, a promise of incoming doom. Ben can feel his heartbeat pounding hard in his skull. He fights against his grandfather with everything he has, tries to focus his connection with Rey, tries to break it, ensure her safety even if his own is anything but guaranteed, but nothing works.

* * *

“Grandson of mine or no, you are a fool.” Vader says coolly.

He looks at the two below him for a moment. He can feel the man struggling against him, trying to break the hold Vader has over him and the girl. It is no use. They have been working on their connection, have strengthened their dyad, but it doesn’t matter. They may have been preparing to face him again, but he has been preparing for this as well.

The Force swirls around them so thickly it may as well be a physical thing, something he could reach out and touch were he so inclined. He can feel the burning power rippling before him. He wonders if they see it as he does, burning and bright and tangible. He’s read quite a bit about the strength of a bond like theirs but seeing it in action is something entirely different, something awe inspiring. It is so powerful. A power like life itself… or so he has read.

He reaches out and grabs it, pulls it toward him, forces _their_ power to bend to _his_ will, allows it to fill him. It takes no time at all before he feels old wounds healing, closing. Decades-old pain wanes, pain he’d almost forgotten he once lived without, even his lungs feel stronger. The pair scream as he pulls their life-force from them, as he funnels it into himself. Part of him feels that it should be more difficult than it is, but it is as easy as breathing – so to speak.

He wonders how far he can go, how much he can take. For the first time in nearly twenty years he allows himself to entertain the idea of life without the suit, a life where the harsh sound of his breathing does not dog his every step. Could his limbs be regrown? Could he be made whole again? If such a thing were possible, he could destroy his master without the need to involve either of his children, which would be ideal.

Will this kill them? The thought enters Vader’s mind before he can banish it. Why should he care if this destroys them? They are his enemies, have actively worked against him at every turn and will likely continue to do so – they are practically _Jedi_. He would be doing the galaxy a service by ridding it of them.

It hardly matters that the man is his grandson, that he shares Vader’s blood. He is unworthy of it, weak, fit only to restore Vader to his full power. It hardly matters that Padmé would care for him, or that Luke would, or his daughter… Leia – this is her son. She would never forgive Vader if he killed her son as he would never forgive someone for harming his own.

He pulls back, stops taking their life-force, but he does not release the two, both of whom continue to fight weakly against his hold.

He unclips the comm from his belt and brings it up towards his mask. He will have to inform the bounty hunter that the girl is now to be brought to him _alive_. He does not intend to kill them but using their power like this has potential. If he allows them to rest periodically, he may still be able to restore himself completely. The idea is certainly a heady one.

Just as his thumb brushes the button on the side of the disk-like communicator a door behind his grandson slides open. Leia, his daughter, glares at him – all her mother’s dark eyes and his fury. The lightsaber held in both of her hands ignites, the blade blue and the hilt familiar.

“Let them go.” She growls. In his surprise, Vader’s hold over the dyad pair slips and the girl disappears.

* * *

Rey gasps for breath as Ben harshly severs their connection. She tries to open it again immediately only to find that he has closed it on his end. She pushes back against the wall he has erected to no avail. It shouldn’t feel as awful as it does. She’d lived the six months after Crait with the bond closed on her end, not to mention the nineteen years she’d lived without ever even knowing it existed, but now knowing how deep it goes, being without him is like being without half of herself.

“You alright?” Ahsoka questions standing over her, white lightsaber blades held defensively across her chest. She’d managed to push Rey into an unlocked room while she’d been under Vader’s control.

“How’s she doin’ back there?” Han calls back from the open doorway. Red blaster bolts fly by dangerously close to his face. Lando crouches near him, firing into the oncoming blaster fire.

“Vader,” Rey breathes, her voice hoarse.

Just standing is a near monumental task, but she manages – her body has never let her down when she’d needed to go just a little bit farther, gather one more piece of scavenge, scale one more wall. Sweat pours down her face as her muscles strain just to keep her upright but she needs to keep going. Ben needs her.

“We have to –” She pants, her breathing labored. “We have to get to them – Ben and Leia. They’re in danger.”

“Vader,” Ahsoka intones at the same time Han whispers “Leia,” under his breath. Chewie growls a reminder that they have a few _friends_ left to deal with yet.

Rey sucks in a long, slow breath and nods, her head throbbing and her body aching. She grips the hilt of her lightsaber tightly, drawing as much strength from the Force as she can muster. She needs to get to Ben. It’s the only thing that matters. She steps out into the hall, her blue blade shining in front of her.

The Chiss bounty hunter steps out from the squadron and pulls a sword from behind her back, her red eyes shining like the rain of blaster fire surrounding them. She twirls the blade, the metal glinting sharply in the bright lights of the hall. Rey lunges with more strength than she thought she could muster and raises her lightsaber above her head, the action reminding her of the still quite fresh wound in her shoulder. She ignores the pain and swings down at the woman.

Rey expects the bright blue plasma of her lightsaber to cut easily through the metal blade of the bounty hunter’s sword, as it does with just about everything else. She inhales sharply in surprise as the metal blade passes through her own. She twists her body out of the way at the last minute, the point of the blade scraping against her side, slicing through her shirt. She is lucky to come away with nothing more than a long, shallow cut along her ribs.

The blade of her lightsaber sputters and dies in her hand, but Rey doesn’t have time to gape at it, dumbstruck. The bounty hunter swings again, this time aiming for Rey’s neck. Rey dodges and hits the side of her hilt against her open palm in frustration, certain that her haphazard repairs have finally given out - what a time for _that_ to happen! The Chiss woman laughs at her. Ahsoka mutters a curse under her breath from somewhere behind Rey.

“Cortosis blade - nasty trick, I’ll admit.” She swings the thin blade in front of her once in emphasis. “Your Jedi weapon will be out of commission for a little while.” She adds with a grin.

Rey ducks and dodges the woman’s swings, at the same time, she keeps her head on a swivel, on the lookout for _anything_ that can be used as a weapon. She pulls the blaster of a fallen Stormtrooper to her hands. It will have to do.

Ahsoka tucks her body in on itself and rolls out of the way of the bounty hunter’s blade She pops up into a crouch, the white blades of her sabers flashing to life before and behind her. She sweeps at the Chiss’ leg, but the bounty hunter jumps out of the way, also successfully dodging a bolt from Rey’s blaster.

Rey kicks out, the heel of her boot hitting the bounty hunter’s ribs with a satisfying, soft _thud_. The woman rears back, the back of her head connecting with Rey’s nose, a loud _crack_ reverberating through her skull. Rey grabs her wrist, desperately trying to wrestle the sword from her grasp, but she still too weak from whatever Vader did to her and Ben. The Chiss tosses her onto the ground where she lands hard, all of the air escaping her lungs in a harsh exhale.

Ahsoka, not being able to deflect the bounty hunter’s blade with either of her own, avoids the woman’s attacks with expert precision. Rey struggles to sit up, her entire body sore and exhausted. She raises the blaster, aiming for the Chiss, her whole arm trembling. She shoots once and misses, the bolt going wild and hitting the wall. She breathes in deeply and focuses herself, steadies her hand and takes aim.

A bright red bolt of plasma hits the bounty hunter square in the back. She falls to the ground in a heap. Rey looks at her blaster in confusion - she hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. She twists around to find Lando, arm outstretched, blaster in hand. Han approaches her and kneels down by her side, grabbing one of her arms and hoisting her up. He supports most of her weight as she struggles to stand.

“Come on, kid,” He says, eyes darting around the hall, looking out for incoming threats. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

* * *

Leia would feel like a fool, hiding away under her covers, if she could feel anything at all. The panic and outright terror from earlier has subsided, leaving her feeling quite numb. Despite that, she is crying – she hasn’t cried this much in her entire life, not even when she was a child.

None of it makes sense, none of what she saw. She knows, deep in her bones, in the very essence of who she is, that what she saw was real, that it all actually happened - or, will happen - but it can’t be true. She is left feeling hollow in her confusion.

She ignores Ben when he pounds on her door, ignores him when he says that they have to leave. She does stop crying at the sound of his voice, but she doesn’t leave her bed or respond.

He sounds panicked, and that tugs at something inside of her that she doesn’t understand - and she is getting quite tired of that - but what if it’s a trap? What if he is tricking her? She remembers his anger from the vision, the rage in his eyes, and it both frightens and confuses her. She has known Ben to be a little cold and temperamental at times, but never… like _that_. What if everything she knows about Ben is some sort of ruse?

Suddenly he stops but Leia is not as glad of it as she thought she might be. Instead, it only worsens her ever-mounting anxiety. She sits up slowly and throws the covers off of her. She can hear muffled voices through the door - two men, one of them Ben, she thinks, but the walls are too thick to make out much else. She slides one foot onto the floor and the instant her toes brush the plush carpeting below Ben’s voice is inside of her head.

 _Leia,_ He begins, his tone full of forced calm. Leia’s hands fly up to her ears, pressing tightly, though that does nothing to dampen the sound. _Do not come out of that room until I tell you it’s safe._

The mixture of warmth, concern, and affection that fills her chest is confusing, but she does feel herself relax somewhat. It does little to ease her irritation, however. She does _not_ like being told what to do, but she has no desire to leave this room any time soon in any case.

She shivers as a wave of cold passes over her. The hairs on the back of her neck sand on end and something inside of her screams ‘ _danger_!’ Crossing the room, she finds her lightsaber where she’d left it last night. Her hand hovers over it, shaking embarrassingly hard. Her head swings around at the sound of screaming - pained, horrible screaming - and she grabs her weapon without a second thought. She ignores Ben’s warning and rushes out of the room to find Vader standing above a kneeling Ben and Rey.

“Let them go,” She warns, igniting her lightsaber.

Vader lowers his hand just a fraction and Rey completely disappears – something Leia does not understand but also can’t spend too much time wondering about. Heart beating wildly in her chest, she struggles to calm down, but she has to, has to allow the Force to flow into her, guide her movements - right? That was what Ben and Ahsoka had said to do, isn’t it? She needs to pretend to be… what was it? A river? Is she the water or the dam?

Ben keeps himself from collapsing onto the floor with one arm, straining for breath. He looks back at her with pained, terrified eyes. He mouths something that Leia can’t make out, only a rattled breath escaping him.

“Daughter,” Vader says, filling Leia with unbridled rage.

This man - this _monster_ \- the one who tortured her friends, who has destroyed countless lives, who keeps the galaxy in a state of perpetual fear, who took her mother from her, he has the audacity to call her that? She grips the hilt of her lightsaber more tightly.

“Don’t call me that,” She snarls.

“But you are my daughter, Leia. You know this already.” He takes a step towards her. “Would you deny it?”

She would if she could – but she can’t. The cold air surrounding her prickles her skin and she breathes in deeply, steeling herself. She’s almost certain she’s not ready for this, to face Vader, but it doesn’t matter because it is happening either way. She digs her heel into the carpeting behind her.

 _He deserves to die_. A voice, her own, she is almost sure, whispers in her mind - or maybe it is in her heart? _After everything he has done? After everything he has done to_ you _? The galaxy will be a better place without him - do it now!_

Leia roars as she launches herself up and swings a strike as heavily as she can manage in Vader’s direction. He blocks her blade with his own, throwing her off. She lands with a stumble a ways away from him but rights herself quickly, awaiting his attack.

 _What has become of your brother? What has this monster done to his own son_? The voice whispers and Leia’s anger grows. She grits her teeth and wills herself not to cry.

“Where is Luke?” She screams. Vader makes no move towards her so she jumps at him again, and, again, he deflects her attack with ease. She roars in frustration as she lands on the ground. “What have you done with him?”

“Your brother is on the ship, young one.” Vader says with maddening calm. “You shall see him soon.”

“Leia,” Ben rasps behind Vader. He rises shakily, his lightsaber clenched in one hand. “Stop, you’re -” He stumbles and clutches his abdomen. “You’re -” Vader extends his arm backwards, sending Ben flying to the back wall of the room where he crumples, unmoving, unconscious.

“Stop that!” Leia cries out, moving to attack again.

Her lightsaber clashes with Vader’s, red and blue sparking against each other, spitting and snarling almost as angrily as she feels. She commands the Force to keep her feet steady, not allowing Vader to toss her away as easily as before. She hits his blade with her own over and over in a sloppy flurry of enraged strikes. Vader never attacks her back which only angers her further.

“Such anger,” He muses. “Impressive.”

She hits his blade a bit harder this time. He is _mocking_ her. She’ll destroy him. It is her destiny, after all. She can feel it calling to her, fate, cold and angry. She lets it in, lets it settle in her bones. It feels powerful, to know with certainty what you are meant to do, what you were born to do, and completely compelling.

She propels herself with the Force in an attempt to jump over him, but finds herself frozen in midair. She tries to fight against the binds holding her, but they are too strong. Vader presses a button on his belt and Stormtroopers flood into the room. Her lightsaber hilt flies from her hand and lands in Vader’s. He inspects the weapon for a moment as a few troopers collect Ben from where he lays slumped against the wall.

“That man and the princess are to come with us.” He swings around to point at one of the troopers nearing Leia. “She is not to be harmed.” He warns lowly.

“And the droid, Lord Vader?” One of the troopers asks. He stands by C-3PO who has powered down during the commotion, likely worried that his circuits would fry from all of the excitement.

Vader stares in silence at the golden protocol droid for a long while. Too long.

“Leave it.”

Leia is lowered to the ground slowly and placed in binders, her arms held in place firmly by two stormtroopers on either side of her. She thrashes around in their grasp, screaming out. She manages to kick one in the shin but that hardly does much damage.

“This is for your own good, Leia.” Vader says firmly, one gloved hand nearing her head. She pulls herself as far away from his reach as she can but a sudden rush of calm flows over her and the world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leia: "Where is Luke? What have you done with him, you monster?!"
> 
> Cut to - _Devastator_ INT. Luke and R2D2 listening to showtunes and eating space cookies with warm milk.
> 
> Whomp whomp. So, I guess that Ben's conversation with the 'rents is gonna have to take a bit of a rain check - or, a Vader check, I guess. 😂 It's just like Darth Grandpa to stomp in on the scene and totally ruin the family vacation. This is why you're never invited to these things, Anakin. Well, that, and the fact that you're a Sith Lord.
> 
> This chapter was a tough one to write. Action is always very hard for me, personally, and this is basically all action - but it was really fun to take the action from different perspectives and to explore the dyad further. I'm not a fan of TROS, though I think that the idea of the dyad, while not fully fleshed out, is something with so much potential! It has been very fun to expand on that idea.
> 
> I'm fairly happy with how this chapter turned out in the end. I hope that you all enjoyed it as well! Thanks to everyone, as always, for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments - I genuinely appreciate every single one! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	33. I'm Just Chillin' In Cloud City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How’re ya doing there, Rey?” Han asks, pulling her wrist to help lift her a bit more.
> 
> “M’fine.” She says, her voice soft. She trips over her own feet as they take a step forward, nearly taking herself out and Han with her. “Need to get to Ben… Leia… Vader,”
> 
> \---
> 
> Rey and the other Skywalker plus-ones are having a heck of a time. Vader and Ben are _not_ chilling. Luke's just trying to have lunch.

Han wraps one of Rey’s arms around his neck and hoists her up. He can tell that she is trying to bear as much of her own weight as she can, but her legs wobble underneath her and she grips his shirt in search of an anchor. He curls his own arm around her middle to steady her and begins pulling them forward, because they _need_ to move.

Stormtroopers continue to pour into the hallways from seemingly every direction. Han picks them off as he sees them and Rey does her best to help, blaster held in her non-dominant hand, but her aim is shaky at best. Han stops them in their tracks as they are quickly overwhelmed, surrounded by a wall of white plastoid-composite armor. He hauls Rey up, tucking her behind him as best he can. He’s got to think - and fast. Can he take them all on his own? Can Rey use the… Force, or something, to help them in any way? Not that he has time to ask her, of course.

He tries to run through every scenario he can imagine, his right hand still clutching his blaster tightly. Fighting his way out of this one seems unlikely and dangerous, but surrender – now that Vader is in the picture is surrender even an option?

Han knows the benefit of a tactical surrender. Unless your ultimate goal in life is to go out guns blazing, sometimes the best option isn’t to fight, no, sometimes the best thing you can do is to give yourself up – or, to make it seem like that’s what you’re doing. Let them take you somewhere where you’re less surrounded. Han is very good at talking himself out of tight situations and that is always about a thousand times easier without half a dozen blasters in his face.

 _My instructions are to take you and the girl in alive_ if possible _,_ Tala had said. Why would Vader care if Han is alive or dead? What does he want from him? What about Chewie or Ahsoka? Rey has the Force, but what’s so special about Han that Vader might want him brought in alive? He doesn’t have time to worry about any of that right now.

He is contemplating lowering his blaster, holstering it on his hip – he’s a quick shot, but seven-to-one is bad odds even when he’s not helping to holding a Jedi girl upright – when Ahsoka drops down from above, landing before him. She cuts down the surrounding troopers with ease and Han has to admit, even if only to himself, that those laser-swords they all carry might have a few advantages over a blaster after all. Not many, of course, but a few.

“How’re ya doing there, Rey?” Han asks, pulling her wrist to help lift her a bit more.

“M’fine.” She says, her voice soft. She trips over her own feet as they take a step forward, nearly taking herself out and Han with her. “Need to get to Ben… Leia… Vader,”

Han’s stomach twists anxiously. He doesn’t understand what happened with Rey, doesn’t know why she was fine and fighting alongside them all one minute and the next she was kneeling on the ground, screaming. Still, he believes her when she says that Vader is here, that he’s with Leia and Ben, that they are in danger. He hasn’t known her to lie to him yet.

Vader is Leia’s father. Would he hurt her? He’s heard of the things Vader’s done, of course, he’s been living in the same galaxy as everyone else for the past nineteen years, after all. Awful, horrible things, entire civilizations laid to waste, but would he harm his own daughter? What does something like family, something like blood mean to someone like Vader. Hell, he’s hardly sure what it means to _him_. He doesn’t know what Vader might do with Leia, but he knows that she’s in danger.

He doesn’t have time to think about what a dangerous situation he’s putting himself in, all for this _one_ girl. He doesn’t have time to remind himself that he’s been here before and that these things don’t end well for him – but he’s not sure he’d particularly care even if he did have the time. Lando hadn’t necessarily been wrong when he’d said that Han’s heart was bigger than his head sometimes.

Ahsoka defends Han as he helps Rey limp down the hallway towards where Chewie and Lando are crouched behind a large, synthstone statue in the middle of a rounded intersection.

“We’re going the wrong way! You all know that, right?” Lando calls out over the din of blaster fire raining down around them. “Landing pads are back that way.” He jerks his head, indicating that they should be heading back in the other direction.

“We’re not leaving here without the others.” Han grounds out, shooting at two troopers coming in from the right - one shot to one kill for each. Anger boils low in Han’s chest at Lando’s words. He still has half a mind to deck the man for trying to sell him out.

“I don’t think you understand the situation we’re in, Han.” Lando says, turning to face him. “The situation that _you’ve_ put me in - Vader is…”

“I don’t think _you_ understand the situation, old pal.” Han growls, getting into Lando’s face and burying the nose of his blaster in underside of the former smuggler’s jaw. Lando doesn’t flinch, just narrows his eyes, almost as though he’s daring Han to pull the trigger. “We’re not leaving yet.”

“Please,” Rey breathes, placing her hand on Lando’s chest. “We don’t have time for this.”

“She’s right,” Ahsoka agrees as Han takes a step back, shooting a trooper running up behind him without turning around. Chewie growls that he’ll take Rey.

“No,” She says, trying to push herself out of Han’s grasp. She clings to an edge on the statue in front of her and just barely manages to hold herself up. “That’s not - not necessary.”

“Rey,” Han begins firmly. She glares at his tone but he pushes forward. He knows a thing to two about pride getting in the way of better sense. “We’re gonna move a whole hell of a lot faster without you limping behind us. You know that.”

“Really, I’m –” She breathes in deeply once, twice, three times, before opening her eyes. She stands up a little straighter and pushes off of the statue she’d been leaning on. Her face looks a little less pale though she still clutches her side, a patch of red blooming on her shirt. “I’m _fine_.” She says firmly sounding slightly less breathless than before.

Han wants to argue with her, she’s clearly still injured and likely in no shape to walk on her own, let alone fight, but every second that passes is a second lost. They don’t have any time to waste. He glances at Ahsoka who frowns before nodding in concession.

They progress a bit more quickly after that but they run into so many stormtroopers that Han becomes convinced that the entirety of the Empire has descended on them – and, considering who’s here looking for them, that might very well be the case. He doesn’t know how long it takes them to reach the apartments they’d been using over the past couple of days, but when the doors slide open, they are met with quite a scene.

The struggle that took place is evident. Furniture litters the area, a good deal of it tossed aside, some pieces bearing long, black scorch marks while others have been hacked in half completely. The smell of burning fabric and duraplast fills the air. Goldenrod sits in the corner, clearly powered down but otherwise seemingly unharmed. No one says as much, too shocked or upset to break the silence of the room, but it’s empty. Vader’s gone and he’s taken Ben and Leia with him.

* * *

Vader follows the captain of the city guard down into the the bowels of the palace. His daughter and her son follow behind on floating stretchers he’d brought with him from the _Devastator_ , flanked by Stormtroopers. He had hoped to not have to use them, had hoped his daughter would come willingly at least, but it is no matter now. Though her mind has been corrupted by the influence of her traitorous kidnappers she will come to see in time that she is now where she belongs, Vader is confident of it.

The bright lights and smooth walls of the upper palace give way to darkness and industry the lower they descend. Exposed hoses and vents and pipes expel steam at irregular intervals. Though he cannot feel it in his suit, he can see the temperature drop in the indicator on the inside of his lenses.

“The carbon-freezing chambers here haven’t been used in quite some time, Lord Vader.” The captain of the city guard says. His voice is steady but his nerves are apparent in the Force.

“But are still operational according to your records.” Vader responds.

“Yes, technically,” The captain responds with a short nod. “But there’s no way to know how safe they are, especially as they were not made for use on… humans.” He adds with a quick glance to the two following them. “One wrong calculation could spell disaster, if the operator doesn’t know what they’re doing…”

“Then I trust you know what you are doing, Captain Gladstone.” Vader interrupts coolly.

He knows what Captain Gladstone is trying to do. He is not half as clever as he thinks, trying to convince Vader away from using the chamber. He thinks it is unethical, that much is clear, but Vader pays little to mind to what others deem as ethical anymore. Sometimes ethics must be pushed aside for what is necessary, for what is _right_.

He knows that what he is doing now is not only the right choice, it is the only choice. Vader can handle his daughter. She is strong in the Force but untrained and will be easy to keep hold of – the man on the other hand. Vader has thought long and hard on what to do with _him_. With as set as he seems to be on defying Vader, he poses a danger to both himself and others. Were it anyone else, _anyone_ , Vader would kill him without hesitation. That is not an option for Leia’s son.

In any case, Vader has been frozen in carbonite before, himself. The practice, while unusual these days, is a perfectly safe one so long as, as Captain Gladstone said, the operator knows what they are doing. The hibernation sickness that tends to follow is unpleasant but not deadly and if his grandson’s master had been anything like his own is, the man should be quite used to unpleasantness.

“Yes, of course, Lord Vader.” The captain agrees stiffly. He glances down at his wrist before continuing. “I have operated a freezing chamber before, as I said.” Either way, Vader will be checking the captain’s calculations to ensure no mistakes have been made and that Gladstone has not planned any form of misguided sabotage.

Vader keeps himself open to the Force as they draw nearer to the chamber. He’s received no word from the bounty hunter since her original message informing him that she had the girl and the pilot. He finds this… concerning. He had hoped to hear that they were being transported back to the ship by now. He must operate under the belief that they have escaped, though he hopes this is not the case. He signals for his own transport to be brought down to this level. While he is still intent on capturing the other half of the dyad, he must ensure that his daughter had been secured first.

They approach a rounded platform suspended over a seemingly bottomless pit by metal scaffolding. Light and steam emanate from the grated floor below. The captain hovers over a console on the right side of the room, just behind the center of the platform. The middle opens and a large, rectangular frame emerges. The equipment used for containing and preparing the tibanna gas for freezing has already been removed, leaving only the exterior structure.

The captain plugs a few calculations into the console before going to check the screen on the side of the frame. He taps it a couple of times and then gives Vader a short not, indicating that everything is ready to go. Vader takes a quick look at the read-outs before agreeing. He lifts Leia’s son from the stretcher and places his limp form inside of the frame, holding him upright with the Force.

The platform shutters before slowly lowering into the floor below. Vader’s grandson blinks awake. He looks from the binders on his wrists to the floor rising on either side of him before looking up, his eyes meeting Vader’s own instantly. Vader had been prepared to see anger there, had been prepared for a fight, what he had not expected to find in his grandson’s eyes was hurt and fear and a thin mist of betrayal. It stirs something in Vader, something he no longer has a name for. That feeling rests heavily in his chest, so heavily it might steal his breath away were it not regulated and controlled by the prison of a suit he wears.

“Grandfather,” The man rasps, his voice broken and pitiful, his eyes - Padmé’s eyes - pleading with Vader for things he cannot give.

Vader can feel Padmé. She is watching him. He is breaking her heart all over again. She is not really here, of course, watching over him like some deep-space deity. She is gone but Vader can feel her all the same. She watches him through the eyes of their grandson.

Vader does not question his own decisions. He does not allow himself the luxury of wavering between what is right and what is wrong. If there is any room left for doubt or confusion, any room at all, it will consume him as it had in the time before. He must be resolute because anything else would be ruinous. Swaying from a choice is weakness that breeds nothing but conflict and instability.

Despite all of this, he cannot quiet the voice in his head whispering, almost too quietly to hear, that what he is doing is a mistake, that his choice is the wrong one. That voice, it is not Padmé’s or Obi Wan’s, as much as he would love to blame this doubt on a ghost, he cannot. The voice belongs to Anakin Skywalker, a ghost of another kind, one not lost to the Cosmic Force but to choice, one that may not be as lost as he had once believed.

Suddenly, Vader is overwhelmed. If this choice is wrong, could others he has made have been wrong as well? The insignificant shadow of doubt at the back of his skull blooms rapidly, taking over his every thought. Every memory is now washed in confusion and horror. Something bright wraps around his soul, burning him, tearing him apart from the inside, threatening to split him in half entirely.

The hatch at the top of the freezing chamber closes with a deafening _snap_ , one that echoes around the cavernous space and inside of Vader’s quickly hollowing chest. A thick puff of cold steam rising from the grating around the machine signals that, even if Vader would have liked to change his mind, it is too late now.

* * *

Rey’s mind goes completely blank for a moment when she sees the empty, destroyed room spread before her. Tears fill her eyes as she takes in the scene. Ben had struggled, had fought, but she hadn’t made it to him in time. Where is he now? Where has Vader taken them? She tries to reach out along their bond, as they can’t have gone too far surely. The wall that Ben had erected to keep her out is gone but his consciousness is dull, almost like it is when he’s asleep, something that, even as numb as she is, she knows is a bad sign.

She feels like she’s floating. She can almost see herself from where she hovers above the scene. She sees Ahsoka grab her arm rather than feels it, sees her shoulders shaking, heaving with silent sobs. She can’t hear anything. All sound has been sucked from the room, much like what happens when the bond opens, but the bond isn’t opening now.

She turns around and wraps her arms around Chewie, ignoring the burning sting of her still-fresh wounds. She buries her face into his fur as he purrs soothingly. Ahsoka rubs a hand up and down Rey’s back. She can hear Lando and Han arguing loudly about something, but their shouting is nothing more than white noise to accompany the panicked screaming in her head. Ben’s gone.

Though some part of her longs to cave in on herself, longs to accept the heavy weight of defeat currently pressing the air from her lungs, she can’t. There’s no time to breakdown, not now. Her and Ben’s encounter with Vader hadn’t ended all that long ago. There’s no way they could have made it that far. Sucking in a shattered, shaky breath, she collects herself. She has to be strong now. Tears can come later.

“Where did Vader’s ship land? What landing platform?” She turns to Lando, her words broke by only a few snuffles. The anger from whatever argument he’d been having with Han fades with a sigh as he rubs one hand down his face.

“I don’t know,” He admits.

“Do you remember anything, Threepio?” Ahsoka asks, having turned the droid back on. His glowing eyes flick to every one of them.

“Only Lord Vader arriving and he and Master Ben fighting – oh, it was horrible.” He paces anxiously as he speaks. “I was certain my circuits would fry – I wasn’t made for such excitement.”

“Could you have recorded anything while you were powered down?” Rey asks, clutching her side, the long slash across her lower ribs throbbing painfully.

“It is certainly possible, though the odds of my having captured anything of value are exactly nine thousand, two –”

“Just play the audio already, will ya?” Han groans.

The recording is muffled. Rey recognizes Ben’s fight with Vader from the sound of lightsabers clashing and then her own screaming. She hears someone speaking, but they’re too far away to make out any of the words. A stormtrooper asking about C-3PO comes through clearly along with Vader’s response to leave the droid. Rey sighs, ready to tell C-3PO to turn off the audio.

“ _You have a carbon-freezing chamber in the lower levels of the palace, correct_?” Vader asks, his voice slightly garbled. She can hear someone answer in the affirmative.

“Oh hell,” Lando breathes, his eyes widening. He swallows heavily before twirling around on his heel and beckoning them all to follow with one arm. “I know where they’re headed. Follow me.”

Rey doesn’t even think twice, complying quickly, the others following suit without a word. They meet far less resistance in the hallways of the palace now and Rey isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad sign. She is sure, however, that each group of troopers they run into is wasted time that they simply can’t afford. She’s not sure when, exactly, her lightsaber started working again, but she is glad that it has as their progress would be much slower without it.

Their surroundings shift from smooth, clean white to black as they descend further into the palace. The walls taper up, the halls becoming triangular and narrow. Distantly, Rey feels as though she recognizes this place, as if she’s been here before in a dream or a nightmare – but she doesn’t have time to dwell on any of that right now.

The air grows colder the further down they go and the lighting dimmer. Her skin prickles at every hiss in the air, at any sound that could be Vader’s tell-tale breathing. The Force tells her that they are moving in the right direction, it screams that they are getting closer.

She stops abruptly, overwhelmed by the sensation of the Bond opening. Her heart nearly bursts with relief and joy. She sends reassurance along to Ben, a wordless promise that she is on her way.

 _I love you, Rey_. She hears his voice, somber, apologetic almost. _Thank you for – for everything._

She gasps audibly and begins sprinting froward, pushing past the others. She doesn’t know what’s going on, if the panic gripping her heart is her own or if it’s Ben’s, but none of that matters. She has to get to him, has to help him, because though all he’d said is that he loves her, something they have told each other multiple times since that first confession back amongst the trees on Dagobah, what he’d meant was goodbye.

Her vision goes white as she suddenly feels – nothing. Nothing from Ben. He’s not blocking her, there’s no wall. She pushes along their bond and finds only numbness, a cold, aching empty space where he once was. She is breathing too quickly, but she feels as though she should not be able to breathe at all. Her heart rests inside of her chest, cold and solid. She hears her lightsaber fall to the ground with a metallic clang but does not feel herself fall beside it. The last thing she is consciously aware of is that Ben is gone.

* * *

Luke frowns at the datapad in his hand. He rubs at his chin with his other hand and hums in thought. R2D2 beeps impatiently beside him and Luke sighs.

“I know - I just can’t decide what I should get.” He uses one finger to flick through the menu for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s never seen so many options available! “What do you think, Artoo? Groat chop or lobster bisellian?” R2D2 beeps a short response. “Yeah, the lobster does sound a little too fancy - what even _is_ a meatlump?” He asks, scrunching his nose in distaste.

He finally decides on a roast fregeni sandwich. So much for trying something new, but he knows he likes it so it’s a safe choice. He plops down on the couch in the middle of the living area while he waits for his food to be delivered. He wonders if anyone even used this couch before him. He wonders a lot of strange things now a days.

“I wish my father had a holovid.” Luke sighs, lying across the couch long-ways, his arms stretched out above him. He’s nearly tall enough to touch both ends with the tips of his fingers and toes. “Not that we had one on the farm, but it would be nice.”

He’s so _bored_ , and he feels a little silly being bored, he is aboard a star destroyer surrounded by Imperials, but he can’t help that he is all the same. He’s looked through his father’s collection of holobooks but there’s nothing entertaining. He seems to only own histories or texts, all of which are probably very informative but sound only slightly more boring than staring at the ceiling of his father’s apartments.

“How much longer do you think he’ll be?” Luke asks the droid without tearing his gaze from the ceiling. R2D2 bloops something non-committal. “I wonder what he’s doing. I wish he would -” Luke groans. “I don’t know, talk to me? He’s just… he can be really frustrating at times.” R2D2 beeps sarcastically. Luke shoots him an unimpressed look but says nothing.

“Artoo, can you,” Luke props himself up on one elbow so that he can look at the astromech droid a little better from where he lays on the couch. “Can you tell me another story about – about my parents?”

R2D2 emits a long, low beep that sounds a little too much like a sigh for Luke’s liking, but complies without further complaint. R2 has, at Luke’s unrelenting insistence, told him quite a few stories over the past few days, ones about his mother, ones about his father, the two of them fighting for the Republic during the Clone Wars – stopping dastardly plots to release deadly viruses into the galaxy, uncovering Separatist spies, and stopping more assassination attempts than seem logical.

“Wow, that Clovis guy sounds like a real jerk.” Luke chuckles, folding his hands behind his head and using them as a pillow.

He hears the door behind him slide open and sits up, thinking that it must be the serving droid with his food. He doesn’t even consider that they have never once entered unannounced before. He nearly falls off of the couch in surprise when he turns his head towards the sound to find his father in the doorway.

“Father,” Luke gasps, standing. He feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Luke’s father has not specifically forbid him from asking R2 to tell him stories about Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala but he doesn’t think he’d be very happy if he knew. “You’re back.” He says and instantly feels a little dumb because _of course_ he’s back. He only just restrains himself from slapping his open palm on his forehead.

Luke’s father says nothing, simply moves aside, out of the way of the open door. A few Stormtroopers shuffle in past his father, carting something between them. Luke can’t tell what it is at first, but as they move farther into the living area he sees a hovering gurney and laying on top of it - his sister, _Leia_. She’s completely still, either asleep or… or… Luke can’t even think about that, it’s far too upsetting. His attention snaps to his father.

“What did you do!?” He asks, his hands tightening into fists by his sides. He breathes in deeply and holds the breath before releasing it slowly. He’s so angry but he needs to keep himself calm. Doesn’t his father ever _listen_ to him? “Why would you – I told you that she – What did you do to her?” He sputters.

Luke’s father says nothing. He is ignoring him _again_. Is this all they will ever be? He’d left the others in the hopes of helping his father see his way back to the Light, but that seems less and less possible every day. It is obvious that what Luke and his father expected from this arrangement are two very different things. His father doesn’t trust him, that much is clear, and he certainly doesn’t respect him. Maybe Luke is just a tool for his father to use after all. Maybe he only wants Luke with him to turn him to the Dark Side. The thought is like a lance straight through Luke’s heart.

He’s heard so many stories now about the man his father used to be, the one his father claims is dead, Anakin Skywalker. Anakin was a hero. He loved Luke’s mother and his friends and cared about doing the right thing. Who is Luke’s father now? Maybe Anakin Skywalker really is gone.

Luke is about to continue his questioning of his father, intent on getting at least some semblance of an answer, when more troopers enter the apartments also carting something behind them. At first, Luke suspects it to be another stretcher, but it quickly becomes apparent that this is not the case. Whatever it is, it is long and flat like the gurney, but no one rests atop it. No, instead, it seems as though someone is encased _inside_ of it.

Forgetting his father for a moment, Luke rushes over to the second group of troopers. It does seem like there is a person inside of whatever it is they are moving. It is difficult to tell at first, but upon closer inspection it becomes clear that the person is one that Luke knows - it’s Ben! He looks like a statue, like he has been fused with whatever material encases him. Lights flash on the sides of the metal frame around the long slab of something that Ben is stuck in, but Luke doesn’t know what they mean.

Luke turns around to face his father again. He knows that he is crying, but he’s so upset that he doesn’t care. Luke’s father still says nothing - and isn’t that just like him? He watches Luke silently, that Dark cold that always surrounds him swirling quickly, almost anxiously.

“What did you do?” Luke repeats his earlier question through gritted teeth. He speaks slowly, not because he fears his father won’t understand him, but because he is trying to keep himself from shouting. The Stormtroopers cart Ben into one of the empty rooms leading off of the living area. Luke doesn’t even know where Leia was taken.

“He is not dead.” Luke’s father says after a moment as though that is an answer to Luke’s question. While Luke is relieved to hear that Ben is still alive somehow, that’s not really what he was asking. “He is frozen in carbonite, but he is alive.”

“And Leia?”

“She is alive - asleep.” His father answers, his voice maybe a little quieter than usual.

“Why did you do this?” Luke cries. He feels like he is begging. Begging his father to make sense, to allow Luke to understand him, even for just a little while. “I _told_ you what I saw. I told you that Leia didn’t want to be here - she wants to kill you, do you know that? Do you care? I don’t want you to die, father, and I don’t want Leia to die either. I don’t want to have to make a choice.” Luke grips his hair tightly with both hands. “Why are you _like_ this?”

“You cannot understand.”

“No, you’re right! I can’t.” Luke laughs wildly. He feels like he’s going crazy. His father is the most confusing and frustrating person he has ever met. “I can’t understand why you would bring Leia here when you know that she wants you dead. She thinks it’s our destiny to face you - to destroy you - and I told you that, but you just don’t listen to me, do you? I can’t understand why you would freeze Ben or…” Luke inhales sharply. “Where are the others?” He asks, dread pooling heavily in his stomach.

“I do not know.” His father answers simply.

“Well, that’s good.” He sighs in relief. He hates having to admit that his friends are safer when his father has no idea where they are, but it’s just the truth. There’s no point in denying it.

Luke wipes at his eyes with his dark sleeves, though they are mostly dry at this point. Even without reaching out, he can feel the storm brewing around his father in the Force. It is messy and angry, thunderous, but sad as well. Carefully, Luke prods his father’s signature with his own. He is met with bone-chilling cold, the same as always, but it is different somehow. The anger he always feels inside of his father, whether it be dormant or an active inferno, is seemingly gone, or at the very least overshadowed by something much stronger - _fear_.

Luke palms a nearby wall, leaning on it for support, as his father’s fear overwhelms him. His heart races so quickly he swears it might burst, fresh tears prick the corners of his eyes. Doubts that are not his own flood his mind but are swiftly washed away. Luke looks up at his father, who is now a blank slate in the Force.

“You’re afraid,” He blinks dumbly. Luke doesn’t know why exactly, but his father is deeply afraid of something, that much is sure.

Luke’s father says nothing and sweeps from the room, his cape billowing behind him. His office door closes behind him and Luke is left alone to stew in his questions. He jerks up with a start at a harsh buzz coming from the intercom by the door.

“ _Master Luke, your food has arrived._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎶Dun dun dun dun dundun dun dun🎶  
> 🧊Ice Ice Baby🧊
> 
> Vader, I'm telling you, this is not the way to get invited to your grandson's wedding. You were on thin ice already, but now I suspect you'll be frozen out completely. I wonder what has Vader shaking in his boots at the end? Just the fear that his kids will be giving him the cold-shoulder after his latest stunt or something else? 🤔 I think he's hoping they'll just let it go. - I refuse to apologize for any of these cold-related puns. I stand by them.
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter! This week was a very stressful one for me and, I suspect, for a few of you as well. I was actually worried I wouldn't get this done in time as I could hardly tear myself away from the news for long enough to write. Also, I increased the chapter count again! 🥴 I _think_ this should be the last time, but so many of these parts end up being longer than I anticipate, so we'll have to see. 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone, as always, for the kudos and bookmarks and comments. I always love hearing what you all have to say, so thanks for sharing with me! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	34. Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke feels completely unbalanced, so anxious and upset that he is sick to his stomach. He wants to believe so badly that he’d made the right decision in going to his father, that _saving_ his father, not destroying him, is his destiny, but everything feels so cold and confused and, dare he say it… hopeless. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Vader's thinking about the man in the mirror. Rey's just spiraling. The Skywalker twins are reunited. Ahsoka takes the lead.

Vader turns and leaves his son still confused and reeling from the onslaught of his own uncontrolled emotions. He feels like he is fleeing, a coward retreating to the dark and isolated confines of his office. He tries to focus, to school the thick, viscous fear that has replaced his blood, turn it into something more manageable, but he can’t seem to grasp it - likely the message pinging in the corner of his lenses has something to do with that.

Sidious has summoned him. He should have expected this, it has been a long time coming if he is honest, so why is he not more prepared? He is almost surprised Sidious has left him to his own devices without proper communication for so long, that is unlike his master and Vader finds it highly suspicious. Sidious knows more about Vader’s familial situation than he lets on, Vader is nearly sure of it, but to what extent?

He had known about Luke, could he know about Leia as well? Could he know about Vader’s grandson, about the time travelers? Sidious had felt the great disturbance in the Force that Vader now suspects was their arrival as clearly as he had, likely as clearly as any strongly-attuned Force-sensitive had. Could he suspect? Could he… could he be behind it? Vader has not considered this possibility. He’s not sure that even Sidious is powerful enough to rip through the fabric of space and time, but now that the idea has wormed its way into Vader’s mind, he cannot dislodge it.

He cannot keep his master waiting much longer and so he leaves his office and begins making his way towards the holoprojection chamber which is located in another wing of the ship. Thankfully, the living area of his apartments is clear as he quickly sweeps through it. Again, he feels that pathetic sting of shame at his own cowardice for not being able to defend his decisions to his son.

The chamber hums to life as Vader kneels on the small, circular dais in the center. His master’s translucent form flickers before him and Vader can almost sense the Sith Lord’s displeasure. Sidious says nothing for a long while. Vader does not speak either. His master is testing him, letting him squirm. He does not even shift to relieve some of the painful pressure kneeling causes to those junctures where his cybernetics meet flesh. He keeps his head bowed in reverence and waits.

He can feel each second as it passes in silence. The tension in the air grows thicker with each moment his master does not speak. It presses down on his bones, crushes him as it combines with the weight of Sidious’ stare.

“Lord Vader,” Sidious begins finally. “I am disturbed by your lack of communication.” He pauses but Vader knows that he is not done. “First, you neglect to tell me about the Skywalker boy’s existence and now I must learn that he has been captured from one of your underlings – from someone other than you, my _loyal apprentice_.” The last words come out as a malice-laced hiss, an admonishment.

“It was not my intention to keep this information from you, my master.” Vader says, trying his best to bury the lie under the slightest sliver of truth that he would have told his mater eventually, he had just hoped to have more time. “Skywalker was not captured, he joined us willingly.”

“Us?” Sidious hums, seemingly pacified by this information, even if only temporarily. “So, he has accepted the Dark Side of the Force?”

“He shall, in time.” Vader says, lowly. It sounds like a vow but it feels like a lie.

“That is promising.” Sidious bears a bit of his teeth in what some who know the Sith Lord less than Vader might assume is a smile. “Tell me, Lord Vader, when had you planned to bring the boy to me?”

“As soon as I was able,” Vader answers. Again, he just skirts the line between truth and lie as he would have brought his son to meet the Emperor as soon as he was sure the boy was ready.

“And you are not able to now?” The question comes out sharp, slicing through the air like a blade.

“I have been investigating reports of rebel activity in…”

“Let others deal with what remains of the pitiful _rebellion_ , Lord Vader.” Sidious sneers. “This is far more important, surely you realize that.” He pauses for a beat and Vader wonders if he is meant to respond. “You will bring the Skywalker boy to me - _immediately_.” Vader’s master commands.

“Of course, my master,” Vader agrees, for he has no other choice. “I shall set a course for Coruscant immediately.”

“There is no need for that, Lord Vader.” Sidious replies with an air of wicked amusement. “I have already instructed your bridge crew to do so upon your arrival. I do hope I shall not have to take such measures in the future to ensure your loyalty and compliance, my apprentice.”

“No, master.” The hate for his master boils in Vader’s chest, dark and liquid and cold. “You shall not.” He promises, he threatens.

The hologram of his master flickers and fades and Vader fights the intense urge to destroy the room, to pull the walls down around him. He has been made a fool of, Sidious commanding the crew of _his_ ship behind his back. Not only that, it is clear that he has a spy among his ranks - this does not surprise him, necessarily, Sidious has eyes everywhere - when he finds this person he will ensure that they see the _error_ of their ways. That will be the very last thing they see.

He debates returning to his apartments. He feels that he should be there when his daughter wakes, but at the same time he suspects that he should give her some time to cool down, allow her to take some of her rage out on the walls surrounding her so that they can have a proper, civilized discussion - finally. Additionally, he still does not know what to say to Luke.

He should be relieved. After what feels like an eternity, his children are finally where they are meant to be - with him. They are safe, away from the corrupting influence of the traitors they naively believe to be their friends. Relief does not come, though that is hardly anything new for Vader.

Instead of his apartments, he heads to his meditation chamber. He needs to gather himself, collect his thoughts and emotions and force them to make sense, if he must. He feels the ship shift from realspace to hyperspace beneath his feet, his crew following orders he did not give.

He enters the brightly lit hyperbaric chamber and, for the first time, has the arms above his head remove his helmet before closing the rounded pod around him. He gasps as the mask is removed, the sound is broken and ragged. He forces a sharp inhale, his diaphragm burning with the effort, but he can feel his lungs collapse inside of his chest, still too weak to breath on their own. He presses a button on his right and the chamber seals shut with a hydraulic hiss. Highly pressurized oxygen floods the space and he breathes it in greedily.

He knows that the life-force taken from the dyad healed him, but clearly not enough, and now he has one half with no idea where the other might be. Will she come for him, her partner? That would be ideal. Perhaps, when the time is right, he can ‘leak’ information on their location, lead her straight to him. It would likely be best to do this sooner rather than later as he has no idea how long the time traveling pair will remain and he is determined to see himself healed.

What he will do with the pair once he has been restored is another question entirely, one he has no real answer for. He is fairly certain that he cannot convince them to his side at this point. Perhaps the best thing to do will be to ensure his grandson’s birth so that he can help mold the boy - he could find the girl young too, train them himself. They both have such potential for the Dark Side.

The image of his grandson as a young boy tugs at something inside of Vader that he does not understand. It is painful and almost… guilty – but that does not make sense. He banishes the vison of that small child that bears his grandmother’s eyes before it can stoke the discord inside of him any further. If he does not think about these things he cannot feel their sting. They cannot affect him. They will not.

Vader closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, allowing the oxygen to fill his lungs. He reaches a hand up to his face out of an old instinct, one that should be long dead. He runs the leather-clad tips of his unfeeling fingers along the scars that mar his appearance. Perhaps one day he will have fingers again, ones made of flesh and blood and bone instead of metal and machinery, ones that can feel warmth or cold, that can be burned or hurt. Perhaps one day he will be able to look on his children’s faces with his own eyes. Perhaps he will see his own face again, though how he will be able to stand his own reflection he cannot say.

* * *

When Rey comes to, she is not in the bowels of the palace on Bespin any longer. She is laying on the bunk in the lounge of the _Millennium Falcon_ , the one above the rounded seat surrounding the holotable, a blanket tucked up around her shoulders. She gasps as she sits up and then hisses in pain as she hits her head on the underside of the bunk.

How did she get here? She wracks her mind, tries to focus the foggy memories that drift in an out of focus. She’d been with the others, Ahsoka, Han, Chewie, and Lando. Vader had taken Ben and Leia… somewhere. Did she know where? They’d been on their way to find them when… _No_. Her heart sinks.

 _Ben_? She reaches out, the voice inside of her head desperate. She claws at the other side of the bond, willing herself to feel anything there, anything at all. The thread of their connection is pulled taught but can’t seem to find what it is tethered to. _Ben_! She calls out again to no response. She is the only one inside of her mind.

She pulls her legs up into her and buries her face in her knees and weeps. The wail that escapes her is a broken one. It tears at the walls of her throat, ripping them to shreds, but the pain is nothing compared to the deep ache inside of her chest. She continues to push along the bond with everything she has, but she still feels nothing on the other side. A void.

She is alone. She’d thought she’d known true loneliness when the mirror-cave below the island on Ahch-To had revealed nothing but her own face, that she’d had no one but herself, but she’d been wrong. She had never been alone, not truly. She had always had Ben, had always been a part of him, just as he had always been a part of her. She had always been part of a dyad, but now - now that’s gone. Ben is gone, and she is finally, truly alone.

What is this brutal joke of fate? Has this always been her destiny? To have true belonging dangled in front of her face, seemingly just within reach, only to have it ripped away in the cruelest stroke?

She feels small and cold. The only source of warmth is the gentle hand smoothing down her still-loose hair. She cries harder realizing that Ben will never again be able to braid it again, and what a foolish thing to focus on, but she can’t help thinking about it all the same. Never again will he weave messages of love and devotion into her hair or hold her or smile or tell her how much he loves her.

She can hear Ashoka soothing her, but it sounds so far away, like she’s underwater, which is appropriate because she can hardly breathe. She inhales sharply between sobs, but each breath feels as though it is not enough to sustain her to the next. She clutches her knees tighter to keep herself from shaking too violently. The thin mattress dips as Ahsoka sits beside her and wraps her arms around Rey’s folded body.

“What do I tell his mother?” She babbles into her knees. “She never got to - never got to see him again.” She doesn’t know why this is the first thing she vocalizes.

What will she do when - if - she is returned to the future she came from? How can she smile and laugh with her friends while knowing that half of her is gone? How can she look Leia in the eye knowing that she loved her son but wasn’t strong enough or fast enough to save him? How can she fight the First Order when each breath feels like a monumental battle in and of itself?

“It’s alright, Rey, please listen to me.” She hears Ahsoka plead, the arms around her body tightening.

“She’s up?” Han asks from the other side of the room, his voice quieter than she’s ever heard it before, soft in a way that seems so against his normally brash nature.

Hearing his voice only sets her off more, her chest heaving with horrible, painful sobs. He still has no idea that Ben was his son, and how can she tell him now? Ahsoka shoos him away and unwraps Rey’s arms from around her legs. She pulls Rey close, tucking her head under chin. The sound of Ahsoka’s breathing, smooth and calm, is soothing, and Rey finds her sobs dissolving into soft snuffles after a while.

“It’s alright,” Ahsoka repeats gently. “It’s alright, just breath, Rey.”

“He’s gone,” Rey says, her voice barely a whisper. The words ring out discordant and wrong, as though the Force itself refuses to believe the truth in them. Rey shakes her head as best she can with it pressed up against Ahsoka’s chest. She doesn’t see how anything will be alright ever again.

“Listen to me. We don’t know that, not for sure.”

“Wh – What?” Rey blinks numbly, pulling away from Ahsoka. Hope sparks against her withered heart like flint on steel. She forces herself to squash it. “That’s not true. I know what I felt. He’s – please don’t do this to me. Don’t make me hope he’ll come back. I can’t handle that again.” She chokes out.

“Again?”

“My parents, they abandoned me… _sold_ me,” She spits with more rancor than she intends, but there’s just so much pain writhing around inside of her and she has to get it out somehow. “And I convinced myself they would come back for me one day – maybe they told me so themselves, I’m not sure.” She sighs, fresh tears falling down her face. “Fourteen years, I waited for them. I can’t do it again. I won’t survive.”

“Rey,” Ahsoka pulls her into another embrace. For a moment Rey is completely limp, her body too depleted to reciprocate at all. Eventually, she wraps her arms around Ahsoka and holds her tightly. She’s not sure why she revealed so much of her past, something she’s barley spoken about to anyone outside of Ben, all she knows is that she cannot bear to hope or wait for those who can never return to her. Her heart can’t take that again.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Ahsoka places a hand on each of Rey’s cheeks and pulls her face away, forcing Rey to look into her eyes. “But that’s not what’s happening here. I’m not sure what you felt, but you passed out. By the time we made it to the freezing-chamber, Vader was already gone, but the captain of Lando’s guard wasn’t. Vader froze Ben in carbonite.” Ahsoka says slowly, allowing the words to skink in past Rey’s despair. “He’s not dead, or, he wasn’t as of when Vader loaded him onto his shuttle, the captain checked the vitals himself. Ben was alive.”

Rey frowns deeply. Part of her, the part that is still so deeply hurt by her parent’s betrayal, the part that still dreams of the words ‘ _I’ll come back, sweetheart, I promise,_ ’ doesn’t want to believe Ashoka. She’s spent her whole life fighting back reality, not allowing it to wound the precious lie she’d concocted to protect her small, fragile heart. She’s so desperately afraid of that happening again. She can’t lose Ben twice.

Another part of her wants to believe Ahsoka so badly it hurts. Ahsoka has never lied to her, that Rey is aware of, and she doesn’t know why she would choose now to start, but just because something is not a lie does not guarantee its truth. She turns her gaze away as Ahsoka releases her, zeroing in on a small dark stain or blaster-mark on the opposite wall just above the engineering station. It is easier to focus on that than anything else. Its probably there in her own version of the _Falcon_ hidden under layers of grime and dirt built up by time.

“But he might not be…”

“No, there’s no way to know, but I don’t think that Vader would freeze him just to kill him.”

Rey covers her eyes with one hand and tries to think, tries to push past her grief to allow rational thought to take over. What Ahsoka is saying makes sense, if it’s true. If Vader had the opportunity to freeze Ben, he certainly had the opportunity to kill him and if Ben wasn’t dead when he left with Vader there’s still a chance that he is alive.

She feels that warm flicker of hope grate against the dread that is settling heavy in her chest, that is weighing her down, threatening to carve out a permanent home inside of her. It would be so easy to sink down into that dark, terrified place, to let it consume her. To curl up and accept defeat – but when has Rey ever done that before?

It would have been easy to let the sands of Jakku wash over her, to cover her with heat and pain and death. It would have been easy to give up on Starkiller Base, to allow the collapsing planet to swallow her whole. Rey is good at clinging to hope when all seems hopeless, and while it is unclear whether that is an asset or a flaw, it is part of her all the same. She closes her eyes and concentrates hard on her heartbeat and allows herself to hope that his is still beating somewhere in the galaxy in time with her own.

“And we’re headed for them now?” She asks, sitting up a little straighter and drying her eyes.

“No,” Ahsoka answers after a tense pause.

“Why not?” Rey asks, the question coming out like an accusation. Anger and panic mix in her chest, confusing her already flustered emotional state. “Where are we going? Why aren’t we…”

“Not yet,” Ahsoka assures, her voice calm and firm. She places a hand on Rey’s arm. “We couldn’t take on Vader and his entire ship alone, especially not with you knocked out, and we had to warn our Alliance transport of the Imperial presence in the system. We’re headed for _Home One_ now to meet with Alliance command – on my request. We’re going to get them back, but we can’t do it alone.”

Rey frowns and wraps her arms around herself, grabbing her shoulders. She finds fresh bandaging on one of them, the wound underneath stings a little less than before, a benefit of the bacta that has been applied to it. She scratches at the fabric wrappings curiously with one finger.

“I dressed your wounds while you were out. They weren’t too bad, but we couldn’t have them getting infected.” Ahsoka offers. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” Rey says quietly, shaking her head. She looks up at Ahsoka and straightens her brow. “We’re going to get them back?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka says firmly. Rey can tell it’s a promise even without the words. “We are.”

* * *

Luke doesn’t move for a while after his father leaves. He doesn’t know how to process anything that just happened. His sister has been captured by their father, certainly unwillingly, Ben has been frozen in carbonite, not that Luke is entirely sure what that is, and his father is terribly, horribly afraid of… something.

Part of him wants to run after his father, scream at him, yell and demand that Leia and Ben be released. Of course, his father would never listen to him, that much is painfully clear now, but maybe he should anyway? He doesn’t.

Eventually he retreats to his room. He brings his meal with him because he doesn’t know what else to do with it and sets the tray on top of the dresser nearest his door where it will grow cold and stale. He’s certainly not hungry any longer. R2D2 follows him, beeping softly, but Luke doesn’t pay attention to what the droid says, unable to really understand the binary over the rush of white noise in his head.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands. He stares at the floor, eyes wide, for a long time – he’s not sure how long – minutes, hours, it doesn’t matter. He hardly blinks. He feels like he should have a lot of questions, that he should be overwhelmed by them, but he doesn’t have any. His mind is completely blank – empty space.

He has no idea what to do. His self-imposed mission to help his father see the light, so to speak, was already a floundering one, but now that Leia and Ben are involved? Luke never wanted this. He has made it very clear that he never wanted any of this. Why does his father have to be so difficult? No, difficult isn’t the right word for what his father is, that’s too soft. Impossible might be right. His father is impossible.

Luke feels completely unbalanced, so anxious and upset that he is sick to his stomach. He wants to believe so badly that he’d made the right decision in going to his father, that _saving_ his father, not destroying him, is his destiny, but everything feels so cold and confused and, dare he say it… hopeless.

He can’t remember ever feeling so hopeless in his life. Even on Tatooine when it seemed that he would never be able to leave the farm, to go off and live his own life, he’d had hope. He’d had hope on the Death Star and during the Battle of Yavin. Hope has always been something that has burned brightly inside of Luke, but how can he keep that flame lit now when the entirely of the galaxy seems intent on dousing it?

He feels the ship lurch beneath him, and his legs carry him out into the living area. Hyperspace whizzes by in the viewport on the other side of the room. He wonders where they are going. What is his father planning? Luke is sure he will never have the answer to that question.

A commotion rages in the Force nearby, confusion then anger and desperation and fear. Leia is awake. He turns his head in the direction of the raging storm to see a closed, and likely locked, door flanked by two stormtroopers. He approaches the troopers calmly. The acknowledge him with a respectful head-nod each but do not move or allow him entry.

“I would like to speak with my sister.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but our orders are no one in, no one out.” The trooper replies. Being called ‘sir’ doesn’t trip Luke up anymore.

“It’s alright,” Luke says easily, raising one hand. He laces his words with influence, lets them seep deeply into the stormtroopers minds. “I can go inside.”

“It’s alright,” The second trooper repeats tonelessly. “You can go inside.”

“Thank you,” Luke says as the two stormtroopers step aside and unlock the door. His father’s Force lessons are really paying off, though likely not in the way he had hoped.

Leia is sitting on the bed, gripping the edge of it with white-knuckled strength. Her head whips around at the sound of the door sliding open. Luke takes one step inside and locks the door behind him for good measure. He and Leia stare at each other in silence for a moment, her dark eyes wide. She scans him and stands up.

“Luke!” She says breathlessly. Long strands of brown hair have fallen from her braids and line her face. “I’ve been so worried about you. Are you alright, has he…” She approaches him cautiously and glances down at his hand, her mouth falling open. Luke raises it and flexes the fingers.

“It looks real, doesn’t it?” He asks with a sad smile, looking away from his sister. Pain flies across her features and tears well in her eyes.

“Luke, I’m so sorry.” She says, grasping at the fabric of her shirt near where her heart is with one hand. “I never meant to hurt you. I shouldn’t have even… I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I’ve already forgiven you Leia.” Luke says, softly.

She cries then and rushes over to him, wrapping her arms around his chest and holding him tightly. She babbles ‘thank you’s and continued apologies into his shirt and Luke pats her back awkwardly. He never knows what to do when other people are crying, despite how often he seems to do so himself.

“We need to get out of here, Luke.” Leia says, pulling back. “Do you have any idea where we are? How did you –”

“We’re on our father’s ship and we just jumped to hyperspace,” Luke admits reluctantly.

Leia’s mouth sets in a hard line and she falls back down onto the edge of the bed behind her. She looks at the clothing that has been laid out for her, a black outfit embroidered with the insignia of the Empire similar to the one Luke wears, with disgust before tossing it onto the ground.

“How did you get out?” She asks curiously.

“I have free reign of the ship.” Luke says, feeling a little guilty. He’d wanted to say that neither of them are prisoners, but the guards outside of Leia’s room tell a different story entirely.

Realization dawns on Leia’s face almost instantly. She backs up into the bed and draws her knees into her chest. She looks at the emblem on his chest and her eyes harden.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” She breathes.

“It’s not what you think.” Luke protests, but his heart isn’t in it.

“Where are the others?” She snaps, the fear in her eyes plain.

“I don’t know,” Luke says, hopeful that the revelation of their friends’ escape will be as much of a relief to her has it was to him. “Father only managed to… capture,” He forces the word out, “You and – and Ben.”

“Ben?” Leia whispers, her eyes widening. “Where is he?”

“He’s… alive.” His words do nothing to console his sister this time. She stares, waiting for him to continue. “He’s frozen,” He pauses. “In carbonite, but still alive.

“That _monster_ ,” Leia practically snarls, gripping the dark sheets below her with one hand. Her eyes meet Lukes, full of fire. “Get out.” She commands. Luke is taken aback by the vitriol in her tone. He’d known she’d be angry, but he hadn’t expected this.

“Leia, I never meant for any of this to happen.” He pleads for her to understand, for her forgiveness. “I never meant for any of you to be dragged into this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did everything in your power to prevent this, yes.” Leia sneers cruelly.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Luke warns. Leia rolls her eyes.

“If you have no intention of helping me escape then I have nothing more to say to you.” She turns away from him. “Just get out.” She repeats, the fiery anger replaced with pure pain.

Luke does as she says, because what more is there to say?

* * *

Not much time passes at all before the _Falcon_ drops out of hyperspace and the large Mon Calamari Star Cruiser comes into view. Ahsoka’s never seen the headquarters frigate of the Rebel Alliance before, let alone been aboard, but a familiar feeling washes over her as the light freighter pulls into one of the larger ship’s hangars. It reminds her of her adolescent years spent fighting for the Jedi in the Clone Wars. The memories are bittersweet.

Bail Organa is waiting at the bottom of the _Falcon_ ’s ramp. Ahsoka tries for a smile as she descends but the nameless thing that stretches tightly across her face is far too sad and tired. Bail doesn’t even try for one. He nods diplomatically and Ahsoka notes the deep shadows under his eyes. She squeezes his shoulder in greeting.

“Do you think he’s harmed her?” He asks, keeping his voice quiet. “Do you think he would?”

Ahsoka wants to say no, whether out of hope that Leia is unharmed or misplaced trust in her former master, she can’t say. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply. She would like to believe that Anakin would never harm his own child, but he has shown himself to be capable of many things she would have once liked to believe impossible.

“I don’t know.” She admits finally. “You and I both know he’s not the man he once was.”

“Yes, I know that. I -” Bail presses his lips together tightly and nods. “Mr. Solo,” Bail begins, turning to Han who seems to cringe a bit at the name. “I’ll have your payment ready for you as soon as possible as I am sure you are eager to be on your way. You’ve certainly gone above and beyond what was expected of you - I thank you.”

“Leave?” Han shakes his head and his brows knit together. “I’m not leaving, not while Leia and the others are in danger, your, uh, your Majesty… Sir.” He adds, awkwardly tripping over the honorifics.

“Bail is fine.” Bail says raising one hand, a small smile on his face. “I suppose you should all follow me, then. Command has been waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎶 _Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no._ 🎶 - Literally everyone's current emotional state.
> 
> Vader's boss is a real jerk! I, for one, think that he should quit - but that's just me. I was glad we were able to join Vader on his exciting journey through the 'Am _I_ in the wrong here? No... no... that's not true. That's impossible.' tunnel. The Skywalker fam is headed for the big city! It's sure to be a great time!
> 
> Poor Rey! I couldn't resist taking a few potshots at the ending of TROS. I mean, the fact that she didn't even mourn the loss of her soulmate after only really truly having him on her side for like 20 minutes. Like, what? She would be _sad_! 😤 Rant over. My apologies. 
> 
> Luke and Leia have been reunited! It went... rather less well than I think either of them hoped. Luke still wants to help their evil overlord father and Leia still wants to off him - a classic sibling dynamic!
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter! Thank you all so, so much for your kudos and bookmarks and comments. I love hearing what you think! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	35. There Is Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that still you?” Rey asks with a light laugh. “You look so sweet.” She places a hand on Han’s arm as he finds the miniature holoprojector at the base of the frame and flicks it off, the image dying.
> 
> “Yeah, sweet - that’s the look I was going for.” He mutters lowly.
> 
> “And here’s Luke and Leia and Chewie and me and…” She inhales sharply and fumbles with the bottom of one of the holos that Han isn’t looking at, switching it off as he had done for his own. “Let’s go,” She insists, a wide, tight smile spreading quickly across her face. “I bet Ahsoka is waiting for us already.”
> 
> \---
> 
> Ahsoka makes plans with Alliance High Command. Han has some questions.

Bail turns and leads them out of the hangar and through the halls of _Home One_. Rebel soldiers and mechanics and engineers flow past them but pay their group no mind outside of respectful nods in Bail’s direction. Ahsoka slows down to fall into step with Rey who, despite her still red and puffy eyes, looks around with something like wonder or curiosity.

“I’ve never actually been on a ship this massive while it was still operational before,” She says, keeping her voice low, but then she scrunches her nose. “Well, that’s actually not true, but I wasn’t exactly able to stroll around and appreciate it last time.” She smiles sadly and points at something across the wide, open corridor. “Is that a _bar_?”

“Yeah, probably not the only one, either.” Ahsoka nods, turning her head to look at the small establishment that has caught Rey’s attention. “You’ve got to keep morale up somehow, right?”

“I guess,” Rey agrees, craning her neck around to watch a small group passing by. “I just - I can’t get over how many people there are.”

“On the ship?”

“In the Alliance,” She corrects soberly, shuffling out of the way of an incoming crew member carrying a large, white box.

Ahsoka grimaces. She’s gleaned that Rey is in some kind of rebellion in her own time, apparently one much smaller than the Rebel Alliance is now. Everything Ahsoka learns about the future - about the Skywalker family, the war, and the galaxy in general - it seems just as bleak as the present and fills her with dread. For how long will the galaxy be torn apart? Will it ever end or has the Empire opened a proverbial, authoritarian can of worms that can never be closed now that the galaxy’s most power-hungry individuals have gotten a taste?

She wants to ask. She wants so badly to find a way to alter the future, to prevent the Darkness that currently mars the galaxy from spreading. She’s so tired of war, of fighting and hiding. Her fear of asking about the future lessens every day. Still, she refrains. If there is a time to question Rey on the details of her doomed future, it is not now.

The briefing room Bail leads them to is circular an bright. Rows of layered seating surround the holoprojector in the center. The room is mostly empty, save for those beings making up the Alliance High Command which wait for them around the projector.

Ahsoka has no issues walking into the room, holding her head high. Though it’s true she hasn’t worked especially closely with anyone in Command outside of Bail, choosing to work in the shadows whenever she is able, she has spent too much of her life surrounded by generals and admirals to be intimidated by them now. If her companions are any more nervous that she is they hide it well.

“As previously discussed, we will be meeting with the group that escaped the recent attack on Bespin – Fulcrum agent, Ahsoka Tano, Captain Han Solo and Chewbacca of the _Millenium Falcon_ , and Rey, er…” Bail turns to look at the girl in question.

“Just Rey,” She responds softly, though not unconfidently.

Lando had not joined them, despite their invitation and insistence that he would be safer with the Alliance. He had refused, asserting that he needed to ensure the safety of the citizens of Cloud City, which Ashoka respects. There hadn’t been much time to argue with him in any case.

“Thank you all very much for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice.” Ahsoka says, sweeping over to the rounded holoprojector.

She does her best to exude confidence, not only in her words and posture, but in the Force as well. While her audience is mostly dull to the flow of the Force that surrounds them at all times, projecting that aura bolsters her own spirit. It is imperative they get the Alliance’s help in tracking down Vader and their friends, they don’t have the resources or the manpower to do it on their own.

Ashoka takes a moment to scan those gathered around the table. She recognizes the auburn-haired woman directly across from her as the Chancellor of the Alliance, Mon Mothma. They’ve met only a few times and never for very long. She also recognizes Gial Ackbar, former captain of the Mon Calamari Guard, now an admiral if the badges on his tunic are accurate. The others she does not know by name, but she does recognize a few of their faces.

“Of course,” Mothma says with a tight, though not unkind, smile. “We already know a bit of the situation, but please fill us in.”

“Vader attacked us on Bespin. We’re not sure how he learned of our location, though I suspect he gained that information through a hired bounty hunter.” Ahsoka begins, clasping her hands behind her back and pulling herself up straighter. “He managed to capture two of our party, Princess Leia Organa,” She notices Bail suppress a flinch out of the corner of her eyes. “And another named Ben.”

“And I understand you wish us to launch a rescue mission for your friends?” A human male asks haughtily, raising one brow in question. Ahsoka releases a short, quiet sigh.

“A rescue mission is essential for the future of not only the Alliance but the galaxy at large.” She explains, keeping her voice low and even. The impartiality taught to her by the Jedi does come in handy every now and again. “Yes, these people are my friends, but they are also incredibly strong Force-sensitives. If Vader manages to bring even one of them to the Dark Side, that will make our fight all the harder.”

“Skywalker went to Vader willingly, you said as much yourself.” Another human man says, this one older than the last, his hair and beard white. “What makes you believe he has not already joined the ‘Dark Side’?”

“Nothing but faith, I suppose – and hope.” Ahsoka admits, pressing her lips into a tight line. A few of the members of command frown in her direction or whisper amongst each other.

“I’m afraid that alone is hardly enough for us to order a large-scale rescue mission on, Jedi Knight Tano.” The first man sniffs.

“I’m not a Jedi, Ahsoka is fine.” Ahsoka explains quickly, not bothering to hide her frown. “If I’m honest, it’s not Luke I’m worried about.” She glances cautiously at Bail whose eyes are narrowed in curiosity. “It’s Leia.”

“The princess of Alderaan has been a member of the Rebel Alliance since she was sixteen.” A third member of Alliance command, this one a female Quarren, interjects, clearly offended. “And you think that she would betray us – for what?”

“It’s not that simple,” Ahsoka sighs again, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. She doesn’t know how to explain the intricacies of the Force to these people. She’s certain she doesn’t have time. “I’m sorry, Bail,” She shoots a sad look at her old friend who looks torn between confusion and betrayal. “But you must have seen it too, she’s just like him.” Her voice threatens to crack slightly over the last few words. Bail frowns deeply, his eyes full of sad understanding. He nods.

“What is she talking about, Viceroy Organa?” A woman with dark hair and eyes asks, turning to Bail.

“For the sake of my daughter’s safety I cannot divulge much, but Ahsoka –” Bail closes his eyes and releases a shuddering breath as though the words he speaks cause him physical pain. “Ahsoka is not wrong. I cannot claim to know the Force as she does, but I do know my daughter.”

Silence falls over the room, heavy and sad.

“First thing’s first,” Ahsoka begins again after a moment. “Vader’s ship departed the Bespin system not long before ours did. We need to find where he’s heading.”

“We have information which leads us to believe that he has been summoned by the Emperor to return to Coruscant.” Mothma answers calmly. Ahsoka’s stomach drops.

“All the more reason to go after them as soon as possible.” Vader having the Skywalkers and Ben is one thing, but Sidious having them is quite another.

“I don’t like this,” Ackbar chimes in. “We don’t have the resources needed to take the Empire on in their seat of power, not so soon after our loss on Hoth. The risk is simply too great.”

“The risk is too great if we don’t go after them.” Ahsoka insists, imploring the commanders of the Alliance to listen to her. “This is not a ‘now or later’ thing, Admiral Ackbar. If we don’t do this now there may not be a later.”

“We cannot agree to anything without the full support of the council,” Mothma says somberly.

“If Leia does turn, Force forbid,” The dark-haired woman shoots an apologetic look at Bail. “She knows enough about the Alliance to make things very difficult for us – names, base locations, allies. She could destroy this rebellion before it even has a chance.”

Mon Mothma hums thoughtfully and a few of the others fall into quiet chatter. Ahsoka turns to see Han glowering at the lot of them, his arms crossed over his chest. Rey looks down at the holoprojector before them in thought, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of it.

“A good point,” An Alliance commander agrees. “We may not have an option.”

“Obviously, I am quite biased, but I have to agree with Ahsoka on this matter.” Bail says, his voice not betraying any of the emotions Ahsoka can feel roiling around him in the Force. “I’ll assume the rest of you remember Scarif with the same clarity I do,” He flattens both palms against the projector below and slowly looks around at the other members of High Command, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “I shudder to think where we might have been had those brave heroes not defied _this very council_ ,” He stabs one finger into the metal surface below his hands, punctuating each word. “To retrieve the plans for the Empire’s battle station. I’m certain I would not be here with you today without their sacrifice, and neither would Alderaan.”

“What other planets, systems, _lives_ would have been destroyed? We did not act then and nearly lost so much. What might we lose now if we choose not to act?” A female council member asks. Others around her murmur in agreement or, perhaps, worry.

“Even if we all agree that this rescue mission is a necessary one,” A male Twi’lek pipes up. “It does not change the fact that that we simply cannot take the Empire head on at this time.”

“So, what if you don’t?” Han asks. All eyes fall to him. If having the full attention of Rebel Alliance High Command intimidates Han Solo he does not show it. “You all keep talking about ‘large-scale’ and ‘attacking the Empire’s seat of power’, but I think you’re thinking too big.”

“Oh?” Mothma inclines her head, prompting him to continue.

“What if you go smaller… covert,” He shrugs and chuckles. “Chewie, Rey, and I got those three off the Death Star no problem – well, not _no_ problem, but you know what I mean. Smaller ships are harder to detect, especially in a busy system like Coruscant. Sneak in and then sneak out. I’ve been avoiding Imperial attention for years, was really good at it – up until recently, of course. It’s not impossible.”

“That plan, while a bit crude,” Mothma adds with a playful smile. “Has some merit, I’ll admit. However, I do not believe sending anyone in alone would be wise. You would need the support of the Alliance’s Naval fleet.”

“That’s what we were hoping for, Chancellor Mothma.” Ahsoka says with a short nod. The title tastes vile in her mouth, memories of the man who had so corrupted both the galaxy and her youth tainting the word.

“Can we count on your assistance in this mission, Captain Solo? I’m afraid there’s little in the way of monetary gain here.” The first man says with a sneer.

“Yeah, you can count on my _assistance_.” Han answers with clear disdain. Chewbacca is quick to offer his own help as well.

“Me too.” Rey says decisively.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mothma says, seeming pleased. “I think we’re ready to vote.”

* * *

The meeting with the Rebel Command goes on a lot longer than Han had anticipated. In his opinion it should have ended when they’d voted to approve the mission. Make a decision and then get on with it, no need to get bogged down with all this planning, examining blueprints, nailing down details… It’s a waste of time and time is something they have in very short supply.

Vader has Leia and Han can’t stop thinking about it. He tries. He tries very hard to stop picturing Leia being tortured for information on the rebellion. He knows very well what the Empire is capable of. He remembers his own time among their ranks very clearly. He hadn’t been in the army long, nor had he been very high-ranking, but it had been hell all the same.

Now, Leia is in that hell, a prisoner to it. She’s strong, he knows that, so incredibly strong. If anyone can withstand whatever it is the Empire has in store for her, it’s Leia, but she shouldn’t have to. She doesn’t deserve that, not an ounce of it. She deserves to be safe and happy and with…

Han pounds his fist on the bench beside him, pain reverberating along his bones. She needs him and here he is, sitting on his ass wasting time. He’s not sure what chance someone like him would stand against Vader, but when he sees the guy next, he’s aiming straight for the heart. He looks up to see that his outburst has gathered the attention of the few Command members near him – which is just great, because they already seem so pleased to have him here.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

Hours pass before they break, sending everyone off to prepare what needs preparing for the upcoming _mission_. Han is very much done preparing, thank you. He is ready to actually do something. His skin itches with the need to take action.

“I need to speak with Bail for a moment,” Ahsoka says, approaching Han, Rey, and Chewie where they have gathered away from the others. “I won’t be long. You all should get something to eat or head back to the ship. I’ll meet you there.”

Han is not particularly hungry, his stomach too preoccupied with turning over and over at the thought of Leia being thrown in some deep, dark pit on the Emperor’s whim. Rey, whom he has always known to find room for food at any time, seems to be in the same boat, so heading back to the ship seems the best bet. The quiet that settles over them is not entirely comfortable, more anticipatory, Han thinks. There’s a sharp edge to it, a knowing that the peace they’ve found themselves in is very temporary.

He hasn’t let himself care about the wellbeing of anyone outside of Chewie and himself since, well, since Q’ira, and he kind of hates it. He hates the deep worry that settles along his bones, digging deep to make itself a part of him. He hates the way it makes him disregard his own self-interest, his own safety. It makes him feel helpless and completely out of control. Here he is, throwing himself into the belly of the beast he’s spent so long learning to maneuver around. Part of him hates it, yes, but the rest of him wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Look at this,” Rey says, tugging on Han’s sleeve and pulling him from his pitiful ruminations. There’s a glint of excitement and life in her eyes that has been absent since they left Bespin so Han lets her drag him wherever she’d like.

She leads him towards a wall of wanted holos. His own face is the first thing Han spies, smiling back roguishly. A small puff of laughter escapes his chest as he reads through the list of his crimes - it’s much longer that he would have expected and he can’t help the bizarre mixture of pride and humor it stirs in him.

“You’d think I was some sort of criminal mastermind,” He muses, leaning in a bit closer. “Kidnapping, smuggling - of course - aiding and abetting of known criminals,” He hums playfully. “They’d better lock me up.”

His amusement dies when the spinning image of his face shifts to a new holo. It’s still him, just younger. Likely the first image taken of him after enlisting in the Imperial army, his hair shorn to nothing but a buzz which somehow makes his nose and ears seem altogether too large for his face. His mouth is doing something weird too - is he trying to smile? It’s unclear. He groans and feels along the edges of the holo’s frame to find some sort of ‘off’ switch or something.

“Is that still you?” Rey asks with a light laugh. “You look so sweet.” She places a hand on Han’s arm as he finds the miniature holoprojector at the base of the frame and flicks it off, the image dying.

“Yeah, sweet - that’s the look I was going for.” He mutters lowly.

“And here’s Luke and Leia and Chewie and me and…” She inhales sharply and fumbles with the bottom of one of the holos that Han isn’t looking at, switching it off as he had done for his own. “Let’s go,” She insists, a wide, tight smile spreading quickly across her face. “I bet Ahsoka is waiting for us already.”

Han looks back at the holos along the wall, two of the frames now empty. It is not her own she switched off, Han notices, the blurry image of Rey twirls lazily in the frame just to the left of that one. She places her hands on his shoulders and tries to force him to turn around but Han stays in place, glancing suspiciously between Rey and the empty frame. What is she trying to hide from him?

“Chewie, turn that back on,” Han says as Rey’s eyes go wide with clear panic.

“No, no - don’t!” She protests, diving to put herself between Chewie and the holo. She doesn’t make it in time.

Han doesn't know what's got Rey so worked up at first. Ben's face looks back at them, the image much clearer than Rey's. It's when he reads the words above and below the image that he gets the picture. It reads, in clear Aurebesh, above and below: ' _Wanted Alive for Conspiracy Against the Empire_ ', ' _Ben Solo: Known Alias Kylo Ren'._

Han just stares at the words for a moment, their meaning just sitting on the edge of his mind. It’s like he’s crossed two angry wires in the _Falcon._ There’s a sharp jolt of shock followed by numb nothingness. He blinks a few times, his jaw falling slack.

"It's nothing, really. Please, let's just head back to the ship." Rey pleads, sounding desperate.

"What's this - I don't understand." Han finally manages past his confusion. "Why's it say his name is 'Solo'?" Rey swallows visibly beside him. He's not angry but part of him feels like maybe he should be. "Why were you trying to hide this from me?"

"I - Han, I don't know what to say." She responds quietly. "It's… it's really complicated."

"How's it so complicated? Why's he got my name? What's going on?" Han tries to gather his thoughts but that is a near-impossible task. His mind is spinning a parsec a minute.

The first explanation he considers is that Ben and he simply share a last name out of pure coincidence. In fact, ‘Solo’ hadn’t even always been Han’s surname. It had been given to him by an Imperial recruitment officer who thought themselves just a bit too clever, but Han had liked the sound of the name and it stuck. Maybe the same thing had happened with Ben? That does not explain, though, why Rey had so desperately tried to hide it from him. That alone is simply too suspicious to ignore.

"I'm not sure I should say… We should wait for Ben, I think." She says, glancing around the hall, clearly distressed. People pass by them oblivious to her mounting turmoil.

Han grits his teeth, irritation sinking in. Why do they have to _wait for Ben_? He feels like he's being kept in the dark on some big secret or like he's being played for a fool and he's tired of it. He's done being left out of the loop.

"Well I don't think we should." He says firmly, keeping his voice low as to not attract too much attention to himself. "I _think_ you should tell me what the hell is going on, Rey." He points one finger at her, an unspoken threat. What it is he's threatening, he's not sure, but it's a threat all the same. "And don't lie to me, got that? You're an alright kid but I know you all have been keeping something from me - a few things - and I'm tired of it. So, let's have it - the truth."

"The truth,” She repeats before pressing her lips together tightly. “I want to tell you the truth. I really do. We were going to before… I just don’t think you’d believe me even if I told you.” She admits. Han rolls his eyes.

“Try me,” He suggests, not bothering for a moment to hide his irritation.

“Just - Just hear me out, okay?” She takes a step back and puts both hands out in front of her chest as if to show that she is unarmed. Han tries to wrap his brain around her bizarre behavior. “It’s going to sound crazy, I know, but please… Ben and I are from the future.” She says slowly, staring at Han intently to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t give one. “That,” She points to Ben’s wanted holo, “Says his name is ‘Ben Solo’ because it is. Ben is - he’s your son.”

Rey pauses, looking between Han and Chewie, waiting for either of them to respond, surely. Han says nothing, a dumbfounded grin spreading slowly across his face. He huffs an almost involuntary chuckle that really sounds much more like a cough.

“I know this sounds crazy or impossible, but…”

“You know that, do you? That’s good.” Han responds, his mind still slightly too fuzzy to make sense of what she’s said - not that such a thing would even be possible. He frowns when he takes in the pleading look in her eyes, the tense set of her jaw and shoulders. “Shit,” He sighs. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” She says, seeming the slightest bit relieved. “I know that this…”

“You know, Rey,” Han interrupts, lifting one hand to silence her. “I’ve been fed a lot of bantha-shit in my life, but this takes the cake.” Rey’s face falls. “I don’t know if I should scream at you or laugh in your face or take you to the medbay.” He presses his lips together tightly. Maybe that’s it? Maybe whatever happened back on Bespin screwed with her head? Han will be the first to admit that he has no idea how the Force works but that explanation seems more likely than _time travel_. “Actually, yeah, let’s get her to the med - what are you lookin’ at _me_ like that for?” Chewie stares at Han curiously but says nothing.

“I don’t need to go to the medbay.” Rey insists. “We should find Ahsoka, she knows too and…”

“Rey, what you’re saying… it’s not possible. I know you’re upset because of what happened to your guy but -”

“That’s not what this is.” She says firmly, cutting Han off. “I know that this is hard to believe, trust me, I know.” She rakes one hand through her hair and groans. “We were going to tell you, all of you, before Vader showed up on Bespin. That’s why I was looking for you.”

“ _Rey,_ ” Han’s tone is low, a warning, but Rey ignores it.

“We were going to tell you but now Ben and Leia are - they’re gone, and it’s all my fault.” She blubbers, her eyes shining with fresh tears. “I’m really, really sorry, Han.”

“Rey, stop.” Han commands, his blood running hot with anger and something deeper he refuses to explore right now - _ever_. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but it’s not funny.” He says, though Rey is not laughing. In fact, she looks absolutely devastated. “You’re either delusional or - I don’t know, I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”

“I'm telling you the _truth_.”

“No, you’re lying.” Han spits. The ferocity of his anger surprises even him. Rey takes a step back, her eyes widening in fright. “Stop, just - do you have any idea how many times I’ve put _my_ neck on the line for all of you? Why are you doing this, Rey? I don’t understand.” Han cards a shaking hand through his hair. Why it is shaking he doesn’t know. He feels like he’s being hustled but he doesn’t know the game or what the prize is.

Han turns and instantly he feels Rey’s hand grab the sleeve on his arm to stop his leaving. He spins back around, throwing off her hold and drawing his blaster in one smooth motion. This does draw the attention of others passing them in the hall, a few stopping to cautiously watch the spectacle. Han doesn’t care. Let them watch. Rey eyes the weapon in his hand with something like fear or defeat, Han can’t tell. The safety is still on, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“No,” He says simply. “Don’t - don’t _touch_ me.” He adds with a growl. His shoulders jerk as though he can still feel her hand on his arm.

“Where are you going?” She asks, lower lip trembling.

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly. He just – he needs to get away. Away from her, away from that holo, away from everything. “Don’t follow me Rey, I’m warning you. I’ve had enough of whatever weird game you’re playing, the lies, the…”

“I’m not lying,” She insists, her words sounding so earnest.

“ _Stop_!” He roars, the blaster in his hand shaking. Chewie steps between him and Rey and rumbles that it would be in everyone’s best interest if Rey let Han go.

“You believe me, don’t you?” She asks from the other side of the Wookiee. Chewie responds with a quiet growl that he doesn’t know what he believes right now.

Han turns back around and shoulders his way through the small crowd that has gathered. No one tries to stop him. He knows that Chewie is following at a safe distance, respectable some might call it, but his friend says nothing as Han turns corner after corner, not quite knowing where it is he’s heading.

Time passes in flashes, almost like Han is passing in and out of consciousness. Hallways and faces blend together in a nauseating mix of color and motion. He doesn’t know how he ends up at the eighth-level bar but he’s certain that there’s nowhere he’d rather be at this moment. He stumbles up to the bar, his legs acting like he’s already drunk, and rests both hands against the bar top, bracing his weight on it.

He struggles to catch his breath, which doesn’t really make sense as he hadn’t been running. Why is he breathing so hard? It’s his shirt, he realizes, it’s _suffocating_ him. Shaky fingers undo the top buttons, letting the collar fall open to give him some air. It doesn't really help. His heart pounds in his head. He can hardly hear the chatter of the other patrons over the thunderous beating. He taps two knuckles on the top of the counter to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Correllian Whiskey, neat.” He tells the male Rodian dressed in olive drab behind the bar, tossing an unknown amount of credits on the counter. “Better make that a double.” He adds breathlessly when they nod and turn away.

He slips into a booth, setting his glass on the table when his hands start shaking too violently, causing the drink to spill all over the place. His whole body is shaking. He runs his hands through his hair over and over, the motion familiar and slightly soothing. He doesn’t look up when he hears Chewie slide into the seat in front of him.

“She’s lying.” He grunts, needing to speak the words again, needing to hear them aloud.

Chewie quietly asks why she would lie about something like this and Han simply doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t know why she would suddenly make up this fantastical lie, and what for – the hell of it? He stares deeply into the honey-colored liquid and wonders how _this_ is what his life has become.

That she’s out of her mind seems the most obvious and easiest answer. What she’s said is completely insane, after all. _The future_. Time travel doesn’t exist, not really. It’s something that was made up for poorly-written holodramas. It’s not something that actually happens in real life. Han refuses to acknowledge that he’d believed the same thing about the Force only months ago. That’s different.

He doesn’t have a kid. He especially doesn’t have a thirty-year-old sulky kid who doesn’t even seem to like him very much. If Han was his father, and that’s one big, impossible _if_ , wouldn’t Ben be nicer to him? Wouldn’t he have been happy to see Han when they’d met? Not the hulking, scowling mountain he had been, surely.

What kind of father would Han even be? It’s not like his own had been the blueprint for the perfect parent. Han had raised himself and while is experience with raising a child is non-existent, he’s not sure one translates to the other so smoothly.

Wait – Why is he even entertaining this completely absurd idea? One that lives so beyond the bounds of realistic possibility, that is so unthinkable, it’s… it’s…

He slams his empty glass on the table with such a force that his is surprised it doesn’t shatter. He signals the bartender for another drink and crumples in on himself. Head in hands, he spies a forgotten datapad on a nearby table. Han is quick to snatch it. He pulls up the holonet and searches ‘Ben Solo’.

Instantly, he is greeted with Ben’s face, that same image from the wanted holo, surely taken at some outpost or another. Maybe it’s even from when they’d gone to Utapau. Imperial warnings line the side of the screen. ‘ _Wanted Criminal’_ , ‘ _Dangerous_ ’.

He studies the man’s face. He’s all dark eyes and furrowed brows and frowns. Why is he so miserable all the time? The question tugs at something inside of Han he can’t name, it’s sad and painful and he’s certain it shouldn’t be there, gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Why had he once believed it would have been easier for him to have never known his family? Why does he believe now that it would be easier for _them_ if they never knew him?

 _I don’t want to talk about my father_.

Han throws back the drink in his newly refilled glass, the burn of it as it slides down his throat a familiar relief. The alcohol fuels his indignation. Rey is completely certifiable if she thinks for one second he’ll believe what she’s said.

He looks back at Ben’s face again and frowns. It doesn’t matter that he does _kind of_ resemble Han - if you squint your eyes. It doesn’t matter either that Ben’s father had been a smuggler. There are lots of smugglers, the galaxy is chock-full of them. It doesn’t matter that his father had a ship _like_ the _Falcon_ or that Ben knows the ship inside and out, like he grew up on it. It doesn’t matter that every interaction he’s ever had with Ben has been cast in a new and strange light, one that makes everything make just a bit more sense and cut just a little deeper.

None of that matters because Rey is, clearly, a liar. Sure, Han has never known her to be in the past, but she has to be lying about this because there’s simply no other explanation. Well, there is, but it’s an explanation he can’t possibly allow himself to actually consider, not if he wants to retain his own sanity.

It’s a lie. It’s a lie. It’s a _lie_. Maybe if he repeats that phrase, lets it run through his mind on an endless loop, it will start to feel true.

He sets the datapad down on the table gently, turning it over. He covers his eyes with one hand. He’s not crying, he doesn’t do that, but he really has no way to explain the tears that pour down his cheeks or the way his chest heaves with ragged breaths. Chewie places a large hand on Han’s shoulder but says nothing. He pictures Ben’s face again, the image solid and clear behind his eyes. A sob wracks his body.

“He has my nose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I broke Han - my bad. 🤷♀️ This chapter went through a lot of changes as coming up with convincing reasons for Han to believe in time travel was really hard. I mean, he's just a regular guy. He doesn't have the Force or any way to 'somehow' always have known some crazy secret to be true. I hope this ended up seeming believable! It was really fun to write!
> 
> Thanks so much, as always, to everyone for your kudos, bookmarks, and comments - I really love hearing what you have to say, so thanks for sharing! 💖 I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! It was a doozy, but one that has been a long time coming, I think! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	36. The Truth is a Double-Edged Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wondered when you would come to interrogate me, Lord Vader.” Leia says with as much dispassionate calm as she can muster.
> 
> “I have not come to interrogate you.”
> 
> “Oh,” She feigns surprise. “Not this time, then? You seemed rather eager to do so back on the Death Star.”
> 
> \---
> 
> Han deals with his newfound knowledge. Luke makes plans. Leia and her dad finally have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: Excessive drinking/ drunkenness - starts at “You got any kids?” and lasts until the end of that part.**

Rey knows the second the words leave her mouth that she has made a mistake – a colossal one, monumental, apocalyptic. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have waited for Ben, like she said, or at least Ahsoka. If she’d found Ahsoka she could have helped explain, helped make Han see the truth. Maybe he never will now. Maybe he’ll walk away entirely, and it will be all Rey’s fault.

A single tear streaks down her cheek as she watches Han push through the crowd, Chewie following not far behind. She doesn’t follow, doesn’t try to stop him. Those that have gathered stare at her, some with concern, most with confusion. She pays them no mind. She doesn’t have the energy to worry about whatever they think just happened.

What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been, not really, not clearly. Her mind and heart were still so open and raw with grief and worry that she’d panicked when he asked about Ben’s holo. She hadn’t been able to come up with a compelling lie, but in truth she hadn’t tried very hard either. Lying is not something that comes very easily to Rey, unless she is lying to herself, that is. She dislikes deception in all of its forms, and in the end, she _wanted_ to tell him – not like that, of course, but she had wanted to all the same.

It’s a horrible kind of relief, not having that secret hanging over her head any longer. It is like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, but now there is nothing tethering her to the ground.

She wanders for a long while completely without direction or purpose. Part of her wants to go after Han. He’d insisted he needed space, but is that really what’s best for the current situation? She needs the opportunity to explain herself. If she could do that, if they could have a calm discussion, she’s certain that she could make him understand. Surely she must know something about him or the past or the future that would prove what she’s said is true – she’s not sure what that might be, but there has to be _something_ , right?

She finds herself in a mess hall not too far from the hangar where the _Falcon_ resides. She plops down into a chair at an empty table and buries her face in her hands and groans. She only hopes that if Han tries to take his ship and leave, she can catch him and convince him otherwise before he takes off. The water inside of a glass on a table nearby ripples, upset by the ship’s movement.

“Rey?” Ahsoka’s concerned voice breaks through the thick cloud of despair that surrounds Rey. She sits across from her and takes Rey’s hand in both of her own. “Hey, what’s wrong? I know you’re worried about -”

“No, that’s not it.” Rey says, even though her soul-deep worry for Ben is, indeed, part of it. “I - I messed up.” She admits. “Really badly, I think.” Ahsoka just stares, waiting for Rey to continue. She sighs, knowing that there is no point in delaying the inevitable. “I told Han, him and Chewie.”

“Told them?” Ahsoka presses her brows together. “Told them what, exactly?”

“Everything - well, not _everything_.” Rey’s shoulders lift in a small shrug. “I told them about Ben and I, where we’re from, _when_ we’re from, I suppose, and that Ben is his son.” She lets her face fall into the hand that Ahsoka is not holding. She’s not crying, not anymore. She thinks she might be all cried out.

“ _Rey_ ,” Ahsoka says with a sigh. She doesn’t sound upset, just tired mostly. “Where are they now?”

“I don’t know.” Rey responds, not lifting her face from where it rests in her palm. “Han is, he’s really upset.”

“I’ll bet,” Ahsoka laughs dryly. Rey does look up now. Ahsoka watches her with amusement, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “Can you blame him? It’s a pretty wild story.”

“Yeah, I guess,” She admits, one corner of her mouth turning upwards as she thinks of just how unbelievable her life has become

“I only believed you because, well,” She leans back crossing her arms over her chest. “I have some… experience in the matter. I can’t imagine what you sounded to someone like Han. Poor guy’s head probably exploded.”

“I should have waited for you or Ben or…”

“Hey,” Ahsoka stands and moves around the table to squat down beside Rey, grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up about this, Rey.” She says with a light squeeze. “You’ve been under so much pressure. No one could blame you for cracking just a little.”

“But what if I ruined everything?” She asks morosely. “What if Han leaves and Ben is never born and…”

“What if _you’ve_ ruined everything?” Ahsoka asks with a small disbelieving smile. “I just got back from apologizing to Bail for losing his daughter. Luke and Leia were under my care and I lost both of them to Vader. I don’t know much about the future that you and Ben come from, but I’ve gathered that wasn’t meant to happen, at least not yet. Trust me, telling Han is a drop in the bucket of ruin we’ve all wrought on the galaxy.”

Ahsoka stands and pulls Rey up gently by the arm. She throws her own arm around Rey’s shoulders and squeezes Rey into her side.

“And don’t worry too much about Han.” She grins down at Rey, a slight glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “The ship just jumped to hyperspace, so he’s not going anywhere, at least not for a little while. Let’s go find where he got off to.”

Finding Han’s specific presence in the Force among all of the other life forms aboard the ship is not particularly difficult as Rey knows it fairly well by now. She cannot sense his emotions as clearly as she can with Ben’s, especially not with as far away as he is, but he doesn’t feel nearly as upset as he had when he’d left her earlier, which she is glad for. He feels fuzzy around the edges in a way she doesn’t quite understand but also isn’t too concerned with, all things considered.

“You got any kids?” Rey can hear Han slurring over the din of chatter and music in the crowed bar on the eighth level of _Home One_. She looks at Ashoka and nods her head in the direction of the sound, shouldering through the crowd. “It’s just – you’re just out there, mindin’ your own business and then outta nowhere – Bam!” Rey reaches the other side just in time to see Han slap his open palm against the surface of the bar. The bartender looks at him for a moment and blinks though they hardly seem concerned with or even surprised by his behavior. “You got a kid…” He rubs his hand through his hair, mussing it thoroughly.

“It was a simple job. Three passengers n’two droids to Alderaan, n’now I got a kid? That’s a – a bad deal in my book.” He laughs. “Bad deal. And how’re you… am _I_ supposed’ta be a father, ya know what I mean?” He grins and points at the unimpressed looking bartended. “This guy knows what I mean. You – you got any kids?”

“Yeah,” The bartender answers as they stack clean cups and glasses on a shelf behind the bar. “Two boys – four and six.”

“I got a boy of my own, _apparently_.” Han says before downing the glass of amber liquid in his hand in one, smooth gulp. He slams the glass back down onto the surface of the bar. “Dunno how old – never –” He hiccups. “Never asked ‘im.” He rests his head against the bar top. “Older than yours though – old…” Rey rests a gentle hand on Han’s back and he turns his head to look at her, a grin spreading across his flushed face, his eyes glossy. “Old enough to have a fiancée!” He cries out with a laugh, gesturing at Rey.

“Is he yours?” The exasperated bartender questions. Rey nods and smiles apologetically as she helps Han stand on shaky legs.

“I’ve got him,” She assures when the bartender looks at her with concern. “Let’s go, Han.” She loops his arm under his shoulders and feels Ahsoka do the same on the other side. “Where’s Chewie?” She asks, looking around the bar, though a seven-and-a-half foot Wookiee really shouldn’t be that difficult to pick out of a crowd.

“Sent ‘im back to the ship. He was drunk. Guy’s a lightweight, I tell ya.”

“Good thinking,” Ahsoka hums, directing the small group out into the hall.

“Are you from the future too, Ahsoka?” He asks, tilting his head to the side to look at her. “I’m just tryin’ to get a grasp on who is and who isn’t from the future. _I’m_ not, for one,” He raises one finger, counting. “Chewie’s not – told me himself.” He raises a second finger.

“I’m not from the future Han.” She assures him.

“Rey is, did you know?” He growls low in the back of his throat when Ahsoka nods. “’Course you did. Everyone knows everything but – but not Han. Why would anyone tell old Han anything, right? He’s not special. Don’t got _magic powers_ like the rest of ya. Well, I deserve to know too.” He sniffs.

“You’re right, Han.” Ahsoka agrees calmly.

“Hell yeah, I’m right. Always right.” His head lulls for a moment before snapping up. “Rey is gonna – she’s gonna marry my son.” He turns to look at her now. “My daughter-in-law.” He smiles dazedly but then his face falls, becoming much more serious. “I’m sorry I flirted with you so much when we met,” Rey suppresses a groan when she hears Ashoka laugh quietly on the other side of Han. “That’s – it’s not very appropriate behavior for a father-in-law – but I didn’t know!”

“That’s alright, Han.” Rey says, shaking her head. “You couldn’t have known – and Ben and I, back then, we weren’t…” She decides not to finish that line of thought. Unnecessary details for someone who is likely to not remember much of it.

“Whoa, there! Watch your step, folks!” Han laughs as he nearly falls onto his face as the three of them stumble up the ramp of the _Falcon_. Rey and Ahsoka deposit the inebriated pilot on the berth in the lounge above the holotable.

“ _Put me down_!” The tinny, distressed whine of C-3PO echoes through the ship from one of the holds. “ _I say, this is highly_ –”

“I’m going to go see what all that’s about,” Ahsoka says with a sigh. She points at Han and looks at Rey very seriously. “Watch him.”

“Ben,” Han mumbles. “Ben, Ben, Ben – why Ben?” She looks over at him and blinks in confusion.

“Why Ben… what?”

“The name – why Ben? Do I pick it – does his – does his mother? Do I… Who’s she anyway? Men’s bom – _Ben’s mom_!” Han cackles manically, raking a hand down his face. Before Rey can even decide whether or not to answer that question his eyes fly open wide and he gasps. “It’s Leia! That’s where he gets the…” He wiggles his fingers around in the air in front of his face. “The _Force_ or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Rey sighs, not seeing much point about lying at this point.

“Gah!” He cries, flopping back onto the cot, one arm draped over his eyes. “A princess and a smuggler – how’s that work?” Rey shrugs, not having an answer to give him. He doesn’t wait for one anyway. “ _Mrs. Solo_. Didn’t think I’d get married. Are we married? Didn’t think I’d have a kid either. I should talk to Chewie, he’s got a kid.”

“Does he?” Rey asks gently, sitting on the seat just below where he is lying.

“Yeah – good kid. Supposed to go see ‘em all on Life Day. We do every – every year.”

Han closes his eyes and, for a moment, Rey thinks he’s fallen asleep. She shifts to get up but he turns to face her, his eyes intense and suddenly brimming with tears. The abrupt shift in mood is sobering, and Rey thinks that she’s not the only one feeling the effects.

“You’re from the future – are we happy?” Rey says nothing and Han looks near inconsolable. “’Cause Ben seems miserable – almost all the time, ‘specially when he’s around me. ‘I don’t want to talk about my father.’” Han lowers his voice in a bungled impression of his son. “I don’t know how to make him happy.” He noticeably chokes back a sob. “I don’t know how to make _anyone_ happy. Hell, half the time Leia talks to me it’s ‘cause I’ve pissed her off – how’d you build a marriage from that?”

Rey doesn’t know what to say. She lets Han take her hand and squeeze it tightly. She shushes him, rubbing her free hand over his arm in what she hopes is a soothing manner.

“I have a life, and it’s – it’s fine, not perfect, but… but I know how to handle what comes my way. _This_?” He laughs but the sound is too sad, broken and strangled. A single tear escapes the corner of his eye and runs down the side of his face, disappearing into his hair. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

“I don’t know that anyone would know how to deal with this specific situation, Han. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She assures him gently.

“I don’t know what to do.” He cries out. “How can I be a father? How can _I_ be a father?” He presses one hand to his chest for emphasis. “I’ve got a – got a kid out there and he’s… I don’t know if he’s alive or dead and I don’t even know if I love him, because I don’t know what that’s supposed to feel like. Does that make me a shitty dad?”

“No, of course not.” Rey is crying now too, gripping Han’s hand tightly with her own.

“I wanna be good.” He sighs raggedly. “He’s out there and he needs me – maybe not me, but he needs help at least.”

Rey’s chest tightens. Han does love Ben, she suspects. She has known so little of parental love in her own life. Only glimpses of what it might be from Han and Leia and maybe even Luke, in his way, and even then, it had only ever been a shadow of the real thing. Han hardly knows Ben in this time, but he still cares about his safety, will rush headlong into danger and fight for it. That’s love in Rey’s eyes, or close enough to it.

“And we’re going to help him.” She pats Han’s hand and leans to rest her head against his arm which dangles off the edge of the berth. “We’re going to get him back.”

She sits with him in silence until she’s sure he is asleep, until his strangled, ragged breathing evens out and slows. His hand goes slack in hers and she sets it up on his chest and stands, backing away from the bunk. She doesn’t plan on going far, there’s no saying where he’ll be mentally when he wakes and Rey assumes that finding himself alone will do him no good, but she should get him some water or caf or something to fill his stomach and soak up a bit of the alcohol in his system.

“Okay, that was rough, but I finally got – oh, _sorry_.” Ahsoka whispers as Rey brings a finger to her lips, nodding towards a sleeping Han. “You should really roll him onto his side.”

“Okay,” Rey steps back towards Han but her eyes widen as she takes in the gold-plated arm in Ahsoka’s hands.

“Threepio’s fine,” She assures quietly. “But how are you with droid repair?”

* * *

Luke grunts as he spins around to block the bolt of energy that had been careening through the air, headed straight for his back. The blast of red hits his blue blade and sizzles out of existence with a hiss. He rears back as the training droid swings its own blade in his direction and his ankle twists out from under him, sending him back onto the ground. The droid swings down at him again and Luke blocks their strike from where he lays on the floor.

Calling on the Force, he pushes the droid back and rolls onto his knees before springing up and swinging out, his lightsaber nearly severing the droid’s head from its body. He stands there panting for a while, the shining blade of his saber hovering just a hair’s breadth away from the droid’s neck. He doesn’t need to go any further, so he doesn’t.

“Droid off,” He commands, his shoulders slumping and his unlit saber falling to his side.

He lies back on the cool floor and allows himself a moment to catch his breath. He’s been at this for hours now, and that’s not even to mention the hours he’d spent here yesterday. This training room is very similar to the one in his father’s palace on Mustafar. Smaller, perhaps, but well equipped with weapons and droids to train with. It’s also private, which is nice. He’s not been particularly keen on seeing anyone as of late.

His muscles ache with a nice, familiar, distracting soreness, much like they would after a long day of harvesting vaporators on the farm. His head throbs from dehydration and he knows that he should get up to get a drink but he also wants very much to not move at all. Training is a nice outlet for his frustration and a good distraction, but it takes a lot out of him.

He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. The web of the Force spreads before him almost instantly. It still amazes him how quickly he is able to connect with it now, how much stronger his control has gotten in what feels like a very short amount of time. Lights dot the expanse of the void behind his eyes, some brighter than others, all of them glowing with life. It flows through his veins with a comforting warmth.

Suddenly, that warmth vanishes, his veins filling with ice. The air grows cold in a way Luke recognizes and he is pushing himself up and into a sitting position before the door even slides open revealing his father on the other side. Luke frowns.

He’s been avoiding his father, he can admit that, even if only to himself. He’s busied himself with training or meditation, not leaving his room when he knows his father is around. To be fair, it’s not as though his father has sought him out since their last argument, seemingly content to spend time away from the apartments on his own.

“Yes?” Luke prompts, pushing a bit of sweat-saturated hair out of his face.

“We shall be arriving soon.” His father responds simply.

“Oh? And are you going to tell me where it is we’re arriving? Or is that going to be a surprise this time too?”

“Coruscant,” His father replies, ignoring Luke’s tone. “The Emperor wishes to meet with you. I have had clothes prepared and brought to your room. You should get ready.”

Luke’s heart plummets. The _Emperor_ wants to meet him? Part of him, the part that is still very much that boy that grew up on the moisture farm on Tatooine, wonders why. The other part of him already knows.

“He’s your master.” Luke says. It is not a question.

“Yes,”

“You told me that you wanted to kill him - that you wanted my help.” Luke shivers as he says the words and it is as much from the cold that has settled around him as it is from what he has said.

“I did.” His father admits, taking a small step into the room, his hands folded behind his back. “But you are not ready yet. Luke -” His father pauses. Luke shifts impatiently, his legs folding underneath him. “It is very important that you do exactly as I say. My master will ask you questions and you must respond only with the answers I give you.”

“What about Leia?”

“I have not told him about your sister,” His father says, turning his head away. “Though I suspect he knows more than he lets on. It is one of the reasons we must be so careful.”

“You’re afraid of him.” Luke realizes.

“My master is very dangerous.” His father responds, avoiding the subject of fear altogether. “And will look for any excuse to have me - to destroy you.”

Luke blinks for a moment at his father’s blunt honestly, rendered speechless by it. He should probably be afraid, frightened of the concept of the Emperor demanding he be killed, of his father being the one to follow that order, but he can’t feel much of anything beyond shock.

“Would you do that?” He asks, breathlessly.

No. The answer comes easily. His father would not hurt him. In the swirling storm of confusion his life has become, that fact alone seems solid and steadfast. _But if his master commanded it_ , _what then_? A small voice in the back of Luke’s mind whispers. He doesn’t know enough about how master-apprentice relationships work for either the Jedi or the Sith. Suddenly, the easy answer is gone.

“I shall not let it come to that.” His father responds firmly.

“How?” Luke’s father turns instead of answering his question.

“As I said, you should get ready. I will meet you in the hangar at oh-seven-hundred hours.” He leaves without another word.

Luke braces himself on his knees and stands, his legs shaking a little with exhaustion. He is getting more than a little tired of his father saying galaxy-shaking things and then leaving abruptly, but that is apparently the only way his father knows how to hold a conversation.

He wonders how Leia is. He has been avoiding her as well, though that has been significantly easier as she is locked in her room in their father’s apartments. The tempest of anger and frustration that surrounds her in the Force is impossible to ignore, however. He wants to check in on her, make sure that she is alright, but he’s fairly certain she doesn’t want to see him, so he has stayed away.

She shouldn’t be here, and not just because he is afraid that she and their father will try to kill each other. Leia doesn’t _want_ to be here; she didn’t make that choice. She and Ben, they’ve been kidnapped, and Luke can’t help but feel that he is at fault somehow.

He and his father will be off the ship for quite some time after they arrive at Coruscant. Leia will try to escape; he already knows this. She’s a fighter and won’t take being captured lying down. If there was ever a time to do it, it would be when his father is away, certainly. Luke looks to a row of lightsabers lining the wall above a rack of various other weaponry and an idea forms.

* * *

Leia spends hours, perhaps a whole day, searching her room for flaws, weak points, a way out. There’s a vent just above the shiny, black dresser that sits against the wall by the door, and she is able to get it open and squeeze her top-half through, but the edges of the opening catch around her hips and she very nearly gets herself stuck.

The walls are made of thick, smooth durasteel panels, as is the door. She bangs at the latter with the legs of the lone chair in her quarters – _prison_ – until her arms give out but doesn’t even manage to make a dent. She tries focusing on the Force, but she struggles hold onto it. It slips and slides around with her messy emotions.

She does not allow time spent alone to cool her anger. In fact, she purposely keeps that flame lit, lets it roil and build inside of her. She doesn’t know what Vader expects. If he thinks that she will just roll over and accept captivity as Luke has, he is in for a very rude awakening.

She wonders how long he will make her wait, alone and bored out of her mind with nothing to do but stew in frustration with her situation and with herself for not being strong enough to get away on her own. If only she’d trained more, been more serious about learning to use the Force, she might stand a chance against her captors. Rey could get out on her own, Leia suspects, and Ahsoka and… Ben, he could as well, were he not frozen in carbonite, surely stored somewhere aboard the ship like luggage.

She _does_ allow herself to take a shower. She has access to one, after all, and she would prefer not to sit around dirty and uncomfortable if she has the option. She realizes as soon as she steps out of the refresher that this may have been a mistake as it would seem some droid or servant has made off with what she had been wearing, leaving her only with the clothing provided by the Empire. She detests the sight of the six-pointed Imperial insignia on her chest but, really, she has no other choice. The long-sleeved black top and matching pants fit well and are comfortable, though she would hardly admit that to anyone.

She lies back on the bed and tries to work through the visions she’d been assaulted with when she touched Rey’s lightsaber. Part of her wants to try to forget about them entirely, which is strange as she’s never been one to shy away from a subject before just because it makes her uncomfortable. That desire to avoid those memories must stem from how confusing they are, she decides, and disturbing. She doesn’t know if they are things that have happened, or might happen, or if they are _destined_ to happen.

Is anything destined to happen? Is fate something that truly exists? Do all that inhabit the galaxy live under its thrall with only the illusion of choices placed before them? She doesn’t know. She has not thought very long on the subject before now.

The vision involving Ben is the one that confuses her the most. His scar had been a fresh wound, one still very much in the process of healing, implying that the events of the vision take place in the past, but he claimed to have killed Han who is, to Leia’s knowledge, still very much alive - and that’s not to mention the things the alien had said.

 _You have too much of your father’s heart, young Solo_ \- the clear implication being that Han is Ben’s father, but that’s simply not possible. Han and Ben are practically the same age, for one thing, and for another… it’s simply ridiculous, and she refuses to waste energy on that line of thought.

There’s no chronometer in the room, so she has no idea what time it is when the towering shadow that is Lord Vader looms in her doorway, but she suspects it’s been about one and a half standard days since her capture, perhaps leaning closer to two. The air grows colder around Leia, as it always does in Vader’s presence, and the Darkness that surrounds him strikes fear in her heart, but she refuses to let it show.

She stands and squares her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full height - which is really not very tall, especially when compared to Vader. She regards him coolly, raising one eyebrow and frowning.

“I wondered when you would come to interrogate me, Lord Vader.” She says with as much dispassionate calm as she can muster.

“I have not come to interrogate you.”

“Oh,” She feigns surprise. “Not this time, then? You seemed rather eager to do so back on the Death Star.”

“I did not know at the time, who you were to me.” _As if that would have mattered_ , Leia thinks to herself, suppressing a rather juvenile eye roll.

“Yes, and that would make torture and interrogation fine, then - you’re right, Lord Vader.” She can almost _feel_ the way he bristles at her use of his formal title - she delights in it. What had he expected she call him – _father_? He should be happy she’s not referring to him as the Emperor’s attack dog. If anything, she’s being far too civil. “So long as the prisoner is not related to you by blood, it’s all fair game.”

“You admit it, then, that I am your father.” It is Leia’s turn to bristle at _his_ words.

“I very rarely allow myself to deny a truth, no matter how difficult it is to bear.” She says, scrunching her nose a bit in disgust. “But let me tell you something else that’s true, Lord Vader.” She takes a very small step towards him, a need to prove that she is not afraid of him rising in her. “No matter how much blood we share, you will _never_ be my father.” She sneers. “I already have one, and he’s done a fine job.”

“Bail Organa,” Leia shivers. Vader has the uncanny ability to turn the mere utterance of a person’s name into an undeniable threat. “You consider that traitor your father over me?”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Leia asks, crossing the room. She has no destination in mind and no motivation aside from appearing casual. She peeks around Vader as best she can. The door behind him is closed - but is it locked? Are they still in hyperspace? Any escape attempt made in hyperspace would be a wasted one. “He raised me, after all, and -”

“He kidnapped you!” Vader interrupts.

“And perhaps that was for the best,” Leia says, her back turned to him so that she can hide the wicked smile spreading across her face. She can feel how angry he is, it rolls off of him in thick waves. She knows that she is playing an extremely dangerous game with Vader right now, but at least she feels like she is playing, that she is doing something besides rotting away in her luxury cell. “I can’t imagine what you would be like as a father. Your temperament doesn’t seem suited for it.”

She glances again over her shoulder. She cannot see how much her words irritate Vader, masked as he is, but it doesn’t matter because she can practically _taste_ it. It’s delicious. Something cold and hungry curls in her chest, screaming for more - more pain, more anger. She is only too happy to oblige.

“My temperament,” Vader intones. “You would know it well - it is your own.”

“No!” Leia spits. She spins around, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. “I am _nothing_ like you.” The cold little flame in her chest grows with her anger, calls for more of it.

“I thought you did not deny yourself difficult truths?” He says and Leia can hear his mocking tone through vocoder’s manipulation of his voice. “You are more like me than you care to admit. That righteous anger, the fury that fuels you, it is mine, Leia - properly employed it could be a sharp tool. You have so much potential.”

“I will never be like you.” She vows.

“Is that so?” Vader asks. He stalks to the other side of the room to stand just across from her. “You’ve already called on the Dark Side - more than once. I have sensed it.” He looks her up and down. “I sense it in you now. The Dark Side is in our nature, young one. You would do well to accept that. Denial does not suit us.”

“No, that’s not true.” Leia says firmly, frowning deeply. “I’ll never turn. I’ll _never_ join you.”

“ _Turn_ ,” He seems affronted by the word, somehow. “You speak of it as though it is so easy, as though you know anything about it, as though it is a choice at all. You are a child.”

“I think you might be surprised by how much I know about you and your _choice_ , Lord Vader.” She snarls, the vision of him kneeling before his master still fresh in her mind.

“It is in your blood, _our_ blood, daughter, yet you deny it – you deny so much.” He is taunting her. Leia knows that she should not let his words affect her, but the reminder of their shared blood has hers boiling. “The Dark Side is the destiny of this family. It is in your nature, as it is in mine,” He pauses for a moment, the tension growing thicker with each passing second. “As it is in your son’s.”

“What?” Leia asks breathlessly. “I don’t have a - what are you talking about?”

“Another difficult truth you deny yourself, it would seem.” Vader says, clearly amused. “You know it to be true, I can sense that. Perhaps you simply wish that it were not?” He pauses, seemingly to consider her. Leia grasps the back of the chair on her right to still her shaking hand. “Kylo Ren - Ben Solo - whatever he wishes to call himself, he has lied to you from the beginning. He is your son.”

“No,” Leia says, shaking her head. Her knees feel weak. She is surprised she is still standing with how the room spins around her. “No. That’s not true. That’s impossible.”

“It may seem that way, yes, but it is not.”

 _You cannot deny the truth that is your family_.

“Stop,” Leia warns - Vader doesn’t listen.

“It is not impossible, but you already know that. You have known but you have denied it - as you deny yourself many truths.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Leia chants, closing her eyes.

“The truth that the Dark Side calls to you, to your anger and passion. The truth that you desire power, control – the Dark Side can grant you these things. You need a teacher.”

If Ben is her - he’s not, of course, but if he were her son, that would mean that he’s Vader’s - his grandson. Vader froze him in carbonite, _tortured_ him, could have killed him. She wipes the heels of her hands along her cheeks to rid herself of the wetness there. It can’t be true, can it? His mother is from Alderaan, but so are a great many people. That doesn’t mean anything – right?

 _Mom_. He’d called her ‘Mom’ back on the Death Star. She’d just thought it a hopeful delusion of a tortured mind, then, but what if… What if what he had seen when he looked upon her _was_ the face of his mother and he was in too much pain to remember or care that she did not know? _Mom_. The memory of his voice, so broken and afraid, twists in her guts.

The pull she feels towards him, that indescribable _thing_. The _thing_ that has been there from the very beginning, since she first laid eyes on him. Just recognition at first, like she had met him at a gala or an event of some kind years ago, but later, a need to ensure his safety and comfort. She’s never felt anything like it before. Could it be… maternal?

It seems impossible, it should be, but it’s not. It's true, all of it. Ben is her son. Somehow, she’s always known.

_I killed Han Solo! When the moment came, I didn’t hesitate._

“ _No!_ ” She gasps in a ragged, watery breath. Why would Ben kill Han? Why would he kill his own father? What would become of her family? She doesn’t even have one yet and it’s already torn to shreds. She chokes out a sob for her broken family and hates that Vader is there to witness this, that he can see how _weak_ she is.

“You will join me, in time.” He says confidently.

“And if I _don’t_?” She screams at him, sharpening her voice with grief and rage. She is unarmed, but words can be weapons in their own right. “Will you have to kill me? Kill me like you killed my mother?”

At her words the hair she’d been clutching for support trembles and flies across the room, nearly slamming directly into Vader who stops it easily with one outstretched hand. Closing his fist, the chair crumples in on itself, becoming an unrecognizable ball of twisted metal. He casts his hand out to the side and the thing slams into the hardened wall, denting it badly.

“Cease this at once. You have no idea what you are talking about.” He seethes. The walls around them quiver and groan with their combined fury.

“Don’t I?” She cries, tears streaming down her cheeks in an angry torrent. “You killed her ‘in your anger’! Your _master_ told you so! I saw it – I saw it all,” She taunts. “Did _she_ not join you? Is that why she had to die? My parents, the ones who raised me and cared for me, they told me all about Padmé Amidala. She was their friend and a great woman. She loved the Republic and democracy and, for some reason, she loved Anakin Skywalker. She was my mother. I never got to meet her and it’s because of _you_!”

Her words ring out and are met with an eerie silence which falls over the room. The air is thick with emotion. Anger is there, certainly, her own and Vader’s mixed in a confusing conglomeration of rage, but more than that, so much more than that is misery, grief, remorse, and despair. She practically chokes on it, on the visceral anguish that surrounds her, that surrounds both of them.

She weeps for the mother she never got to meet, the senator and Queen, the hero. For the husband doomed to be murdered by his own son. For the son who thinks she can never forgive him, who loves her and misses her but is too afraid to see her again. She feels that she is surrounded by broken pieces of a family and she has no idea how to put them back together – if that is even possible.

“You should have been able to meet her.” He speaks so quietly, altogether too quietly for _who_ he is, Leia almost doesn’t hear him.

“I – _what_?” Leia sniffles. Her mind is spinning with more emotions than she can comprehend, and she simply cannot grasp what he has said.

Vader says no more. He turns and exits the room, the door sliding closed and locking behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, that was a doozy! I had a really good time with this chapter. Between drunk Han and Leia trading verbal barbs with Vader it was really fun to write, even if the angst gets a little heavy at the end.
> 
> Ma and Pa Solo are finally on the same page! Only one left out of the loop is crazy Uncle Luke. Wonder when he'll find out? Who will tell him - Palpatine? Piett? The sleazy ship salesman from chapter 17? (My money's on him!) Only time will tell, friends!
> 
> I'll be honest, we're definitely going to have more than 41 chapters at this point, though I don't know how many more exactly. I know what comes after this and the end is completely planned out but different parts keep going longer than I expect them to. Hopefully I will have a real final chapter count soon! 💖
> 
> Thanks, as always, for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments! They always make my day!! I hope you all enjoyed and thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	37. What Are You Doing Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, I’ve got a few questions.” Han says casually, resting his feet on the table. They’re probably a little too close to the blue milk pancakes, but it’s his ship and he’ll put his feet where he damn well likes.
> 
> “Yes, I’d imagine you do.” 
> 
> \---
> 
> Vader came out here to have a good time and is feeling very attacked right now. Han and Rey's Q&A session goes only marginally better than Ben and Vader's back in chapter 7. Luke helps his sis.

Vader crashes through the door of his office. The burning throb inside of his chest is near unbearable. He is used to pain, it is what he knows, but this is different. It is not physical, or it is but its source is not.

_She was my mother. I never got to meet her and it’s because of you!_

She is right. After nearly two decades of believing he had been the one to kill his wife and, subsequently, their child, it had been an unspeakable relief to realize that he had indeed not been the cause of her death. However, that does not mean that he bears none of the responsibility for her fate and the separation of his children. Had he been strong enough, he could have saved her. Had he not allowed his rage take control he may have been able to convince her to join him. Padmé did not die by his hand but he is certain that he is one of the reasons she no longer lives.

He braces himself on his desk, hands splayed out along the smooth, metallic surface. The disassembled pieces of Kenobi’s lightsaber are scattered across the desktop before him. He grabs at the crystal and holds it tightly in one gloved hand. The pain he feels, it is too much to bear, he must channel it, focus it and send it somewhere else - the crystal is the perfect target for his agony. Bleeding Kenobi’s crystal will be Vader’s final revenge; will finally seal the door on that piece of the past, will let it die.

His fist tightens around the crystal and he closes his eyes. His daughter’s face swims behind his eyes, clear and solid, her pain and anger visceral. His son’s face is next, disappointment verging on regret in the boy’s eyes. Padmé is there too, the last time he saw her alive, when he had harmed her. He pushes all of this into the small stone in his hand. It fights back, its Light pulsating, screaming for reprieve, but the Darkness that swirls around him overwhelms its cries, urges him to keep going.

“Do you really think that will help?”

Vader whirls around at the sound a most unwelcome voice. The Dark storm that had been surrounding him deflates and the crystal seems to sigh with relief. Kenobi stands on the other end of the room, just before the door, ghostly hands tucked into his robes, his gaze as sullen and judgmental as ever.

“Help?” Vader seethes. Nothing _helps._ He is far beyond _help_.

“Will bleeding that crystal ease your pain?” He asks, his tone even and calm.

Vader refuses to answer that question. Instead, he turns his back on the apparition. Will Kenobi haunt him for the remainder of his days? Why _him_? Why does she never come? What he would not give to have her appear before him, even as a ghost, even if only to tell him how she hates him and what he has become. If he could only see her again, hear her voice in something other than a dream, know that part of her lives somehow, it would be enough.

“That’s not possible,” Kenobi says, his tone is almost apologetic. He is in front of Vader again, the lights of hyperspace shining through his transparent form. “Her consciousness wasn’t retained as mine was. She’s one with the Force now, part of everything, but she can’t come to you.”

She is gone. A loud _crack_ reverberates around the room as the transparisteel behind Kenobi splinters, lines spreading out in an explosion of pain. The viewport does not shatter, but a web of breakage has weakened the structural integrity and the panel will need to be replaced. She is gone. He has known this, has known it for years. It should not hurt so much.

“That’s not true,” Kenobi says softly. “No one is ever really gone.”

Lies. All things die. Kenobi had told him so himself in a time long ago as they gazed at the frigid remains of a dead star. That dead star which had haunted his mind all hours of the day, both waking and asleep. All things die and then they are gone. The galaxy, cold and cruel, consumes them. He had given everything he had to the Dark Side to save her, his Padmé, and had failed. What had it been for?

“I wish that you had told me.”

“ _What_?” Vader snarls. Has Kenobi not caused him enough pain today?

“About the two of you.” Kenobi explains, raising one eyebrow as though it should be obvious what he is talking about. “I knew - not the full extent. I didn’t know the two of you were married, but I wasn’t blind.”

“You never said anything.” Vader responds, masking his surprise.

“Because you never told me.”

“So you could tell the Jedi Council?” Vader prods, eager to make Kenobi admit his inevitable betrayal, to have this interaction make sense.

“No,” Kenobi sighs - which is very dramatic, even for Vader’s standards. He is fairly sure ghosts do not even need to breathe. “I thought that being with her - it made you happy. I wanted you to be happy.”

Vader turns from the ghost again. Lies! He knows that the specter of his former master is lying, even if he feels no hint of deception in the Force. This conversation is pointless and he will not be made a fool of any longer. He must get to the hangar, prepare his ship.

“Are you really going to go through with it?” Kenobi asks from behind Vader. “You know what will happen if you bring the boy to him. You know.”

“I cannot disobey my master.” He responds simply. Deciding to do anything other than what his master has commanded, even delaying their meeting further than he already has, would be an act of open rebellion and would mark him as a traitor of the Empire. He is not sure why he says anything. He owes Kenobi nothing. The ghost has the audacity to _laugh_ at him.

“I don’t remember you having quite the same opinion of things when _I_ was your master.”

“Will you leave me be?” Vader storms from the room, hopeful to leave the dead man behind.

Troopers and officers clear a path for him as he stalks down the hall towards the hangar bay. The ship jolts beneath his feet as it pulls out of hyperspace. He cannot see Coruscant spread before him as there are no viewports in this corridor, but he knows the sight well enough to remember.

“Anakin,” Kenobi begins, raising that name from the dead yet again, reigniting Vader’s ire, seemingly on purpose. “I know you feel that you haven’t got a choice,”

He stops in his tracks and spins around. Kenobi stands in the middle of the hall. A group of stormtroopers pass him by without a care, one stepping completely through him, unawares of the now dead Jedi Master in their path.

“But you do. You always have.”

Vader blinks, stilled by shock for only a moment. Anger curls in his chest. What does he know? This dead man, this _Jedi_? What does he know about what choices he has had to make? He grabs for the hilt of his saber, but before he can ignite it the ghost disappears and Vader is alone with only the weight of decision to keep him company.

* * *

Han wakes to the sound of a loud metal clatter, which is exactly the kind of wake-up call a person appreciates after a night of heavy drinking. The harsh sound stabs his ears and his temples throb. He groans, rolling over and, _oh_ , is that a mistake. His stomach churns angrily and threatens to send up everything he’d eaten yesterday, not that he can remember _eating_ much.

“Oh, for the love of – _Shhh!_ ” A voice nearby hisses. “You’re going to wake him.”

“Sorry!” Another voice replies in a too-loud whisper.

“M’up.” He croaks, the mere sound of his voice sends a sharp pang through his skull.

He flutters one eye open and sees that he is in the lounge of the _Falcon_ , lying on the berth over the holoboard if he can guess correctly from his current horizontal orientation. He sits up slowly, knowing that he will have to do so eventually, moaning all the while. He rubs one hand over his aching head as he slides down into the seat below.

“How are you feeling?” Rey asks softly from above him.

“Great,” He replies, sarcasm lacing his tone. “Never better.”

The smile on her face falls a bit and she rolls her eyes. Still, she places a cup of water on the table in front of him and deposits a couple of small, white pain pills into his hand. He raises the cup and nods in silent ‘thanks’ before throwing back the medicine and water in one long gulp.

“Chewie?” He asks groggily, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

“Still asleep,” Ahsoka calls from across the lounge, her voice like tiny little knives stabbing at his brain. “Or, he was the last time I checked on him.” Han only hums in response.

“’Fresher,” He grunts as he stands.

He shuffles out of the lounge. Each step sends another rolling wave of nausea flowing through him, but he keeps on. He does genuinely need to use the ‘fresher, but he also needs to be alone. He didn’t spend a whole hell of a lot of time _processing_ last night, having favored drinking his problems away – a choice that his sober and very hungover self is regretting right about now.

He doesn’t waste any time pretending like what happened yesterday was a dream, though who could blame him if he did? He has a son, or, he _will_ have a son, or, he _does_ have a son currently who has not yet been born but is stuck out of time and… Han sighs as he shucks his clothes and climbs into the sonic. Time travel is a mess and Han would almost prefer to not understand it.

He leans his head back against the duraplast wall as the sonic’s rush of air blasts the dirt and dried sweat from his skin. Not only does he have a time travelling adult son, he also has a… _wife_? It’s unclear if he and Leia are actually married in the future but they definitely have a kid together.

He likes Leia, he really does. She’s beautiful, obviously, and intelligent, and her sharp tongue keeps him on his toes but – they have a _kid_ together? They’ve kissed maybe a handful of times and now they have a kid, a future, maybe a marriage. She’s so young, too. He lifts his head so that he can hit it back against the wall behind him again, pain blooms inside of his skull but he hardly cares. Han’s thirty-two and he’s barely ready to have a child, actually, he’s almost certainly _not_ ready. Leia’s only nineteen, how is she going to handle this?

The sonic beeps, indicating the end of the clean-cycle, but Han restarts it, not ready to go out and face the others quite yet. A warm blast of air hits him and he tries to relax, to focus on only the rushing sound of the sonic surrounding him. He just wants a moment to think about something other than how complicated and unbelievable his life has become. He doesn’t quite succeed.

It is strange to watch the horizon of your life change so drastically in such a short amount of time. It’s not that Han ever spend very much time worrying about the future any farther than the next job he was likely to run. In fact, had someone asked him where he saw himself in five, ten years he probably would have told them he’d be doing more of the same – certainly not settling down, starting a family.

He's going to have to go legit, isn’t he? Get a real job. He’s going to have a wife – maybe – and child to support. Does Ben have any siblings? He’s going to have to ask Rey, he needs to know how many mouths he’ll be expected to feed.

Leia’s a princess though. She’ll be Queen of Alderaan one day. If they are married will Han even be allowed to have a job? Will he be a king? A prince? He doesn’t know how royalty works. What had Bail been called? A Viceroy? What is that?

He punches the emergency off button in the sonic and it beeps angrily at him before switching the jets off. Being alone isn’t doing him any good. It’s just filling him with questions he can’t possibly have the answers to. Only one person has the answers. He needs to talk to Rey.

Exiting the ‘fresher, Han nearly runs into Chewie. His friend rubs his eyes and rumbles a soft, tired hello.

“Rough night, pal?” Han asks, patting Chewie on the back. The Wookiee nods and then growls complaining of pain in his head. “Same here.”

Rey or Ahsoka, it’s not clear who, seem to have made a run to the commissary or mess hall while Han was in the sonic as plates stacked high with rehydrated eggs, slabs of meat, sausage, and other various breakfast foods crowd the small holotable in the lounge. It’s a nice gesture but one whiff of the greasy, salty offering has his nausea returning in full force. He foregoes the food for now but does pick up a steaming cup of caf. That, he can stomach.

“So, I’ve got a few questions.” Han says casually, resting his feet on the table. They’re probably a little too close to the blue milk pancakes, but it’s his ship and he’ll put his feet where he damn well likes.

“Yes, I’d imagine you do.” Rey says. She pauses pouring a criminal amount of powdered, artificial creamer into her own caf to bite at her lip nervously and glances up at him. “But I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and…”

“Oh, no,” He cuts her off, one hand raising into the air. “You don’t get to tell me you’re from the future and that I’ve got a kid and then come at me with the ‘no questions’, ‘let’s wait for Ben’, thing. Not happening, sister.”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” She repeats, pointedly ignoring him. “And I don’t think it would be fair to Leia or Ben if we have this conversation without them. There are a lot of things I think that we should tell you all, so many things we could warn you about, but so much of it treads on the history of your life or Ben’s or Leia’s and I just think it would be better if we could talk about this once we’re all together again.”

Han groans and rolls his head back to rest on the top of the seat behind him. He’s not going to argue that what she’s saying doesn’t make sense, but he wants answers now.

“I think I deserve a few questions answered now,” He protests. “I give you full veto power,” he adds, flourishing one hand. “In case any of my questions tread on the history of – _whatever_. Deal?”

Rey taps one finger on the table in thought and looks over at Ahsoka. They seem to be having some sort of silent conversation and Han realizes they might be doing just that. He doesn’t know how the Force works outside of floating rocks and playing with laser swords. Maybe Jedi really can have conversations that take place entirely in their minds, shutting folks like him completely out of the loop.

“Hey!” He interjects, waving a hand between the two of them. “Talk normally so the rest of us can hear you.”

“I was just thinking,” Rey explains, rolling her eyes. “And fine, a _few_ questions. I can’t promise I’ll answer all of them, or that I’ll even know the answers.”

“Alright,” Han agrees. “Fair enough. How are the two of you here? In the past, I mean.” He clarifies quickly. “And why?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know.” Rey answers with a shrug.

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “Sorry, I know that’s a rather underwhelming answer, but we don’t know how we got here. We just sort of… were one day? We don’t know why we’re here either. I think –” She pauses for a moment and purses her lips in thought. “I think that maybe we’re meant to change something. I don’t think Ben agrees with me, though I haven’t really asked.”

“Change what?” Ahsoka asks.

“I’m not sure about that either.” Rey says apologetically. “We’ve already…” She looks down at her hands. “Somethings have already changed, probably more than we even realize. So, I guess if we are meant to change something, it’s something specific.”

“What’s changed?” Han asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Pass.” Rey says quickly.

“Okay,” Han rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “How long have the two of you been here?”

“Since the day we met you on Tatooine.”

Han nods, remembering the day clearly. Ben approaching through a cloud of smoke, his body language stiff, clearly uncomfortable. Han hadn’t thought much of it then, other than how amusing he found it. He doesn’t find it so amusing any longer.

“And how far in the future are you from?”

“Thirty-five years, give or take.”

“Huh,” Han huffs, leaning back. He quickly works through the math in his head as he takes a sip of his drink. “That’d make me, what, sixty-seven?” He laughs again.

Han’s not ever given much thought to old age. The life he leads, well, there aren’t a lot of old-timers running around in the smuggling rings, and for good reason too. It’s a dangerous life and most either find themselves dead before their time or retired, content to live out the rest of their days on what credits they’ve amassed during their career. He hasn’t truly considered which camp he might fall into one day, but he’s never thought he’d be one to retire.

“Assuming I make it that long,” He jokes.

For him, it’s always been easier to laugh at the things that tighten his chest, to pretend that they don’t bother him at all, that he finds them humorous. He doesn’t like to admit when he’s scared, in fact, he can’t remember the last time he accepted his own fear aloud, but the way Rey’s face screws up at his joke and the little sound she makes, the half squeak, half cough she tries and fails to disguise as a laugh, Han’s sure nothing has ever frightened him more.

Another thing he hasn’t considered much is his own death. It’s something that he probably should have thought about more, with how often he puts his life on the line. But death? Who wants to think about that? Sure, in the moment, when he’s got a blaster to his skull or when he’s sure that the maneuver he’s tried to pull off is going to send him crashing and burning into the ground or the side of whatever ship he’s attempting to outrun he considers and sometimes even accepts death as an inevitability, but it never comes for him in the end. He always makes it out. He supposes luck like that only lasts so long.

 _Am I dead in your time_? He opens his mouth but the question doesn’t come out. It sticks in the back of his throat. There are three possible answers he can see, ‘ _no_ ,’ ‘ _yes_ ,’ and ‘ _pass_ ,’ which may as well just be ‘ _yes_ ,’ and he’s not sure he wants to hear that. He tightens his hands into fists to hide the way they shake.

“Do we know each other?” He asks instead.

“Yes,” Rey responds, still seeming a little uncomfortable. “We’ve met. I know all of you in my time. You, Chewie, Luke, and Leia.”

Chewie grunts and nods towards Ahsoka, asking about her. Rey shakes her head.

“No, we’ve never met.”

“So,” Han coughs. “Leia and I – are we married?” He asks, trying to sound casual.

Rey furrows her brows and taps her fingers against the surface of the holoboard as she considers her answer to what Han believes to be a very straight-forward question.

“Yes,” She answers finally and Han’s not sure if the feeling that washes over him is relief or fear. Honestly, it’s probably a good bit of both.

“Okay,” He breaths as he runs a hand through his hair. “Okay.”

Marriage, much like death and old age is something that Han has not spent much time thinking about. In fact, he’s probably considered the other two far more than getting married as at least those are inevitabilities. Everyone dies and everyone grows old, considering they live long enough, but marriage?

“So what?” He laughs, suddenly incredulous. “I just sit in her palace on Alderaan like some happy little house husband?”

He can picture it now, he, Han Solo, some well-kept prince – or whatever the husband of a queen is called. It’s ridiculous. It’s terrifying. The thought of being tied down, of being trapped in some gilded cage is scarier than the prospect of his own death.

He's still not certain what will be expected of the husband of a queen, but surely smuggling is off the table. Does he want to be a smuggler forever? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to think about _forever_. He breathes in deeply, suddenly feeling like he’s been starved of oxygen. His future seems so set in stone now, like he has no choice in what’s to come, like every brick in the path of his life has already been set and all he needs to do now is walk it.

There's a comfort in not knowing what comes next. That means that anything could happen. It means possibility. It means freedom. All of that seems ripped from his grasp and from his future. _Anything_ dwindles down to one thing.

“I don’t think this was a very good idea.” Rey says, standing. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to upset you. We should get ready. We’ll be arriving soon, I think.”

She leaves the room and Han’s head falls into his hands. He thought he’d made some semblance of peace with all of this last night, but uncertainty and fear keeps returning in waves. He rises and makes to follow Rey. Chewie calls out that Han should leave her alone, that this is a bad idea. It probably is, but Han is nothing if not a glutton for bad ideas. He motions for the others to stay put as he rounds the corner of the _Falcon_ ’s main corridor and follows Rey out of the ship.

* * *

Luke returns to his father’s apartments in time to feel a mounting wave of anger and agony cresting in the Force. The swell of energy is emanating from Leia’s room and Luke rushes over, certain that something terrible is happening, but it stops before he reaches the door. His father exits the room and heads straight for his office. He doesn’t even seem to notice Luke at all.

Now that they are separated, he can feel the distinct presences of his sister and his father. Both of them are in clear pain, but Luke doesn’t have much time to worry about that, at least not right now. He heads for the ‘fresher in his room and jumps in the shower. He washes quickly, his mind racing with possibilities and worry.

As promised, an outfit has been laid out on his bed. It looks much more like an officer’s uniform than any of the other clothing that has been provided to him. It’s white and clean and fits very well. He buttons the jacket-like top all the way up to the high, tight collar. There’s a space on the breast of the jacket to place badges indicating rank, but he hasn’t got any so it remains blank. A cape hangs off of the back and rests just above his thighs with a shorter portion wrapping around the front and clipping to his shoulder. He foregoes the gloves provided.

He takes a moment to adjust himself in the ‘fresher’s mirror and blinks when he sees his reflection. He barely recognizes the person who stares back at him. This young man is well-dressed, his wet hair is pushed back out of his face which bears a serious and troubled expression. He is not that relatively care-free farm boy of only months ago. He looks important. He looks like an officer or maybe like the son of Darth Vader and he doesn’t know how that makes him feel.

He sits on the edge of the bed and toys with one of the leather gloves. His stomach churns as he pictures what is coming. His knee bounces anxiously so he tucks his legs up underneath him. He tries to meditate to calm his nerves but it doesn’t really work. He waits until the chronometer on the wall reads fifteen minutes until 0700 hours before standing. He waits in the doorway of his room and reaches out with the Force, searching for his father’s signature, ensuring he is not nearby.

There are a total of four guards in the apartment. Two posted outside of Leia’s door and two posted outside of Ben’s. There are none stationed immediately outside of the residence but that hardly matters when the ship itself is full of stormtroopers and officers and commanders. If his plan works as he intends, they won’t have to worry about any of those though.

The troopers in front of his sister’s door stand at attention as he approaches, their backs straightening. It’s taken quite some getting used to, the respect he is shown on the ship, the shallow bows, the ‘sir’s. It’s a lot.

Luke has never rendered someone unconscious with the Force before, though he has had it done to him. It is also not something he has been explicitly taught, either by the Jedi or his father, but he has learned how to influence minds with his words and perhaps this is not so different. He hopes it’s not at least.

He reaches out and feels for the minds of the stormtroopers before him. They are much easier to breach than someone like his father or Ben or Ahsoka, people with proper shielding in place. Discomfort itches underneath his skin as he pushes his intent forward, wills their minds to bend to his control. It all feels horrible and wrong but, in the end, it is much more ethical than killing them. The lesser of two evils he supposes.

They collapse, falling to the ground like dead weight with a loud clatter. He stills completely. Surely the other two troopers stationed down the hall just out of sight heard that, right? Will they come to investigate? Should he say something? Blame the sound on a plate falling or that he tripped to throw them off?

He sneaks over and peeks around the corner. The troopers don’t seem to have moved an inch and Luke feels his body unwind slightly, a relieved sigh escaping him. Influencing a mind is much easier when the subject has no idea what you’re doing he’s found.

When the second set of troopers are also incapacitated he moves back to Leia’s door, willing it open. She sits on the edge of the bed, her back to him, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shake but she doesn’t sound like she’s crying. Actually, she’s not making any sound at all.

“Leia?” He says her name softly as he steps over the knocked-out stormtroopers and into the room, his footfall careful and quiet.

Leia whirls around, her face going from enraged to socked in a moment. She stands and looks down at the troopers at his feet, her puffy, reddened eyes narrowing in confusion. She makes not move towards him, however.

“What are you doing here?” She asks with a sniffle.

“I’m here to rescue you,” Luke says with a sad little laugh.

“What?” She asks, her eyes lighting up just a little.

Luke doesn’t take the time to answer her. Instead, he reaches over and grabs her hand, whisking her out the door. “Careful.” He instructs as they step around the collapsed troopers. “Watch your step.”

“Where are we going?” She asks. Again, Luke doesn’t answer.

He pulls her through the living area and towards the door the other stormtroopers were guarding which also flies open at his command. The room beyond is empty, or very nearly so. Only one object stands against the very back wall. Without knowing better, someone might think it is a statue, a very bizarre, perhaps slightly macabre one at that.

Leia gasps, fresh tears streaming down her face as she runs over to the slab of solid carbonite encasing Ben. She reaches out with one shaky hand but pulls it away a split second before she makes contact with the grey, stone-like substance.

“He’s alive?” She asks, her voice breaking with emotion. She wraps her arms around herself in a tight hold. “How?”

“That’s what father said.” Luke confirms. “I’m not sure how.”

Leia turns back around, quickly inspecting the frame of Ben’s small and unconventional prison from all sides.

“There’s a panel here,” She says, lifting herself up onto the tips of her toes to inspect something on the right side. “I’m not sure what they mean.” She frowns and looks at Luke again. “We need to get him out of here.”

“That’s the plan.” He approaches her reaches for her wrist. “Here, take these.” He places two lightsabers filched from their father’s training room into her hand. “I couldn’t find yours or Ben’s original sabers, I’m sorry. I’m hoping you won’t need them, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Leia blinks down at the hilts in her hand with apparent confusion and then looks back up at Luke. Sad realization fills her eyes and Luke can hardly bear to meet them with his own. Neither of them speak for a moment, reality hanging between them.

“There’s a change of clothes for Ben in my room too, an officer’s uniform. I didn’t know what size to grab. I hope it fits.” Luke had been in a rush to leave the laundry before he was caught and had settled with an outfit that looked like it would be too large for him. “As long as you’re wearing the right clothes and look like you belong nobody tends to stop you, unless you’ve wandered somewhere you shouldn’t.”

“You’re not coming with us.” She says, her voice quiet, resigned.

“No,” Luke shakes his head. “I’m not.”

“Luke, please reconsider.” She pleads, the hand holding the lightsaber hilts falling to her side.

“I know you don’t understand what I’m trying to do. Sometimes,” He laughs ruefully. “Sometimes neither do I. All I know is that leaving now would be a mistake. Maybe you think I’ve joined the Empire, but I haven’t. I don’t need you to understand,” Tentatively, he reaches out and places a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Just, please, trust me.”

Leia’s arms wrap around Luke’s shoulders as she pulls him into a tight embrace. “I – I’m sorry.” She breathes into the front portion of his cape. “I trust you Luke. I’ve been… so wrong about so much and I –” She breaks off into sobs and all Luke can do is soothe her, hugging her back.

“Father will be suspicious if I stay away much longer.” He says softly, releasing himself from her arms. “We’re going to be planet-side for a while, I suspect. I’ll try to delay our return for as long as possible. The hangar is on the bottommost level of the ship. The turbolift down the hall should take you pretty much straight there. Ben knows how to fly.”

“Where are we?” Leia asks.

“We’re on Father’s ship in his personal quarters. We just arrived in the Coruscant system.” He responds, unsure of which answer she was looking for.

“Coruscant?”

“Yes, Father is taking me to – it’s not important,” He finishes quickly, seeing no need to worry Leia unnecessarily. He grips her upper arms with both of his hands. “Just get Ben and get out of here. I’m really sorry you got messed up in all of this, that was never my intention.”

For a moment it looks like she’ll fight him, like she’ll continue to beg him to come to his senses and leave with her. She closes her eyes and sighs, looking a little worn.

“Please, stay safe.” She says, looking up into his eyes.

“You too,” Luke responds with a smile.

He steps away and turns around quickly. Part of him feels that he should stay to help Leia free Ben, but he knows that he doesn’t really have time for that, and if he stays any longer he fears he really might just go with them. Leia doesn’t say anything more as he leaves the room, in fact, it is only the sound of concerned, nervous beeping that stops him in the doorway of his father’s apartments.

“You’ve gotta stay here, buddy.” Luke says, turning around and kneeling down to put himself at eye-level with R2D2. The droid warbles in protest but quiets when Luke places a hand on the top of its domed head. “Yes, you do. You’ve gotta stay here and make sure Leia’s okay, alright? Make sure she’s able to get to a ship – please, pal. For me.”

R2D2 rolls back, stopping just beyond Luke’s reach. With a series of frantic, angry beeps he encourages Luke to go, to leave. So, Luke does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, Darth Dad's gonna be real sore when he finds out Luke helped his sister and naughty nephew sneak out! The kid's going to be grounded for sure! 
> 
> I wish that I'd had the opportunity to have Obi-Wan pop into the story more often. His bullying of Vader is just *chef's kiss*. What a dynamic they have. We love to see it.
> 
> I'll be honest, this chapter is one I really struggled with! I hope that it turned out in the end and you all enjoyed it! As always, thank you all for the kudos, bookmarks and comments. I appreciate them all so much!!! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	38. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Luke,” Luke’s father begins as the ship lifts from the hangar floor. Three TIE Fighters on either side of the shuttle rise as well, their escort preparing itself. “Why did you join me?”
> 
> \---
> 
> Leia and R2 discuss de-thawing techniques. Vader decides what's really important. Rey and Han find resolution.

It takes Leia only moments to connect the dots of what Luke has said. They’re above Coruscant, Vader is taking him somewhere planet-side and Luke had been reluctant to tell her where. _The Emperor_ , her mind supplies, and deep down she knows it’s true. Lightning flashes behind her eyes, her mind filled with the tortured screams of her brother, begging for Vader to help, to stop it. Her heart constricts with the knowledge that he doesn’t, that he won’t.

“Wait, Luke – Stop!” She calls out to no response.

Looking back at the frozen hunk of carbonite encasing Ben just once, she rushes out into the larger, central room of what are, apparently, Vader’s apartments. She ignores how ordinary it all looks, even if a little plain and severe. She’s ignoring a lot of things about Vader right now, if she’s honest. A lot of things about him and about herself. She has too much else on her mind to worry about any of it right now. Later. She’ll process all of it later.

The living area is empty. Her heart sinks. He’s already gone! She needs to go after him. She almost doesn’t notice the warbling astromech droid rolling towards her. It’s speaking to her, she knows that much, but it’s all too fast. She understands a bit of binary but she’s nowhere near completely fluent. She narrows her eyes and tries to focus on the frantic beeps.

“Please, slow down. What are you saying?” She catches ‘Luke’ and ‘father’ and ‘help’ and ‘stay’, but so much else is lost. “Luke, yes – we need to go after him. Stop him.” She thinks that she is agreeing with the small droid, but a disappointed little _boop_ tells her that she is mistaken.

R2D2 continues and Leia crouches down, as though that might help her understand what it is saying. ‘Ben’, that comes through as clear as day, as clear as the orange lights of Coruscant blinking just outside of the large viewport on the other side of the room. She looks over her shoulder at the still open doorway. Ben. She can’t leave him behind, but she can’t let Luke leave either right? She stands, feeling completely torn, and nods for the droid to follow her.

The unconscious troopers crowd most of the space in Ben’s doorway, so Leia pushes them aside to make room for R2D2, though the task is not easy. She returns to the side of Ben’s highly unconventional prison, the one with the panel of screens and knobs and buttons. One of the readouts seems to be measuring his heart rate. At least, that’s what she thinks it’s measuring. A thin line pulses slowly but rhythmically. The screen behind it is green which she thinks is a good sign. Green usually indicated ‘good’ in these sorts of things, right? Perhaps she’s just being hopeful.

“Tell me you know how these things work?” She turns to R2D2. Thankfully, he replies in the affirmative.

She looks back at the panel and it makes her feel a little ill. What if she presses the wrong thing? What if she misunderstands an instruction? The situation seems extremely delicate. Leia’s not even sure _how_ he’s alive inside of there. If she makes a mistake, it could end in disaster. Still, it’s not like she can take him with her like this, carting the slab of carbonite through the halls of a star destroyer would hardly be keeping a low profile, nor can she leave him behind.

“Okay,” She says, releasing a trembling breath. “Tell me what to do – but slowly, please.” R2D2 begins and it does go slowly for her, but she still can’t quite make out everything it says. There’s something about a knob, but there are so many! Her finger brushes one and she pulls it back quickly, worried that she’s chosen wrong. “Knob? Which knob?”

The droid responds with what she thinks might be ‘blue line.’ Sure enough, one of them is marked with a blue line along the radius of its circular face. She twists the knob, turning it until the line meets up with its identical partner on the other side of the panel. She holds her breath but nothing happens and she’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

A few switches need to be flipped next and she can tell that R2D2 is being very careful in the way it describes them. Some of the words are still lost in translation, but Leia is nearly certain she gets the picture. She flips what needs flipping and stands back, waiting for something to happen. Her heart catches when something actually does.

Screens on the panel start beeping and blinking and Leia is sure that she’s going to be sick with anticipation. Dread settles heavily in her chest as she’s certain she’s made the wrong choice. She should have waited for someone who knew what they were doing. She shouldn’t have taken this on by herself. What if she’s broken the thing? What if he’s trapped forever? What if he’s – no, she can’t even allow herself to think something so gut-wrenchingly awful.

The front of the slab begins to glow orange and then red. Leia runs around to face it. The carbonite starts to melt away and Leia has to shield her eyes from the bright light emitted from it. It only takes a moment or two but it feels like a lifetime as she waits and watches Ben emerge from his frozen confinement.

He gasps raggedly and Leia is grossly unprepared for the way he falls forward, landing on top of her like a dead weight – a heavy one at that. She turns, her shoulder digging into his chest as she struggles to support his full weight with her back. She only just manages to lower the both of them to the ground slowly without falling herself.

With some effort she manages to roll Ben over so that he lies supine before her. His eyes flutter open slowly and they dart around the room, dazed and unfocused, his pupils blown wide. He opens his mouth as though to speak but merely sucks in a long, deep breath. The sight of his chest rising and falling, even as stilted as it is, fills Leia with unfathomable relief.

He's _alive_. She’d hardly allowed herself to consider the alternative. It had been far to horrible to imagine. He’s alive and he’s – okay, perhaps he’s not _well_ , but he’s alive and for now that’s enough.

“Ben?” She whispers, unsure if he can hear her at all. His eyes snap to her face but they are still clouded over and confused.

“Leia?” He rasps. She readjusts them so that his head rests on her lap. He shivers violently in her arms. One of his shaking hands comes up to grasp at and then rest on her shoulder. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?” She asks, stroking one of his cheeks. She hopes that it doesn’t make him uncomfortable. She doesn’t know what else to do.

“I have hibernation sickness,” He explains. "I think. I've never - never been frozen before, but I've heard..." His teeth chatter. The liquid that covers him is still so cold. He must be freezing. Leia wishes that she had a blanket or something to cover him with. “I can’t – can’t see anything, but my sight should re-return in time.” That explains the way his gaze flicks from place to place, unfocused and seemingly without reason. “Where are we?” He asks again.

“Vader’s ship.” She tells him and while he had already looked quite a bit paler than usual, he blanches.

“Rey?” He grabs Leia’s arm with a bit more force. His eyes widen and land on where he surely thinks her face might be. “Where is Rey? Is she – is she…”

“I don’t know.” Leia answers honestly, her tone an apology. “Only you and I are here. I haven’t heard anything about Rey or – or the others. Luke is…” _In danger_ , she doesn’t add. “Can you stand?”

Ben shifts in her lap, one of his arms reaching behind him, palm flat on the floor. He manages to lift himself a few inches and Leia helps as best she can, but he collapses back onto her with a pained grunt. He shakes his head and pants from the effort.

“Just need a – a second.” He explains. “Sorry,”

“It’s okay.” She soothes, even if she’s not sure that it is. Is Luke even still on the ship at this point? She’s got to get to him – to warn him – to stop him! “Don’t worry. It’s okay.” She’s not sure if she says that for his benefit or for her own.

She looks down at his face, tracing the tips of two fingers over his eyebrow and down his cheek. He really does look so much like Han, the resemblance is nearly uncanny. How had she never noticed it before now? She already knows the truth, but some part of her needs to ask, to have him confirm it aloud. Perhaps now isn’t the right time for that, but when would be? She needs to hear the words come from someone other than Vader and, maybe even more than that, she needs him to know that she knows.

“Ben,” She begins, her jaw trembling. He looks up in her general direction. “Are you – my son?” The words sound mad, completely and totally mental, but as Ben stiffens in her arms, she knows what his response will be even before he speaks. His dark eyes begin to mist over. They’re hers, aren’t they? How had she never seen?

“I – yes,” He admits sharply. “I am. How did you –” He seems to think better of whatever he’d been about to ask. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

His apology nearly splits her chest in two, her heart shattering at the misery etched into the lines on his face. Who apologizes for being someone’s son?

“Why, Ben?”

He looks back at her for a long, quiet moment, his chin quivering with emotion. She imagines that he can see her, even if only her presence in the Force. He places one hand over hers where it lays on his cheek before again closing his unseeing eyes.

“For all of the things I haven’t done to you yet.”

“No,” She hushes him, her voice kept to a whisper to hide the way it wavers. “Don’t – don’t say things like that.”

“I am though,” His eyes cast downward. “I’m so sorry, for everything. You don’t even know –” He chokes on his words. “What I’ve done. You don’t even know.”

She does though, or, she suspects she does. She doesn’t say anything either way. Ben is crying genuinely now, fat tears rolling down the side of his face. He tries to look away from her as though he’s ashamed, whether of this display of emotion or what he’s done, it’s unclear. Leia doesn’t let him, pressing her hand more firmly to his cheek, she gently adjusts him so that he faces her.

“I felt you,” He sobs. “After, only days after I – but you weren’t angry with me, not at all. I couldn’t understand. How could you still care for me after what I’d done? How could you still want me to come home?” Leia doesn’t truly understand what he’s talking about, but she hums soothingly and lets him continue. “I was there, but I couldn’t do it, and then I couldn’t sense you. I was terrified. I’m so sorry – for _everything_.”

Leia’s hand shakes as she runs it gently along Ben’s brow, as she cards her fingers though his hair, liquid carbonite still clinging to the dark locks. He looks around blindly, his hand groping for hers. Tears spill down Leia’s cheeks. She doesn’t know what to say to him, to her _son_. He’s so frightened, sick and blind, he trembles beneath her touch. She pulls him closer, tucking his head into her chest, needing to ease the ache she feels there, needing to comfort him and not quite knowing how.

He doesn’t fight her, quite the opposite really. He clumsily wraps his arms around her waist and cries into her shirt, holding her just as tightly as she holds him. Her son, her grown-up son.

“I’ve missed you,” He whispers hoarsely. 

When she was very young, Leia would have bad dreams from time to time, as children tended to do. She would run to her parent’s room in the palace and crawl into their bed, nestling safely between them. They never made her leave, never seemed put out by her sudden and unwarranted appearance. Instead, her mother would hold her close and sing lullabies to her. Her mother’s singing is something that has always brought Leia comfort. Would the same be true for her own child? Is it?

_Mirrorbright, shines the moon, its glow as soft as an ember_

_When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember_

_Those you have loved but are gone_

_Those who kept you so safe and warm_

_The mirrorbright moon lets you see_

_Those who have ceased to be_

_Mirrorbright shines the moon, as fires die to their embers_

_Those you loved are with you still —_ _The moon will help you remember_

She sings, her voice a warbling mess, every other word lost to the tightness in her throat or is choked away in a sob. Did she sing this to him when he was a little boy? Will she? Is she a good mother? She doesn’t know _how_ to be a mother. She doesn’t know what she’s doing at all.

Her heart is full of something she recognizes as love, but it is different than she has ever felt it before. She loves her parents, has loved childhood friends, she loves Luke, but this is so overwhelming, so all-encompassing – she had never known she could feel anything like this for anyone before now. She strokes the cheek of her child, wiping away his tears. She wants to stay here with him, hold him until his sight returns, care for him, but she simply doesn’t have the time.

“I’m going to sit you up against the wall, aright, Ben?” She asks, keeping her voice as soft and soothing as she knows how. He helps her as best he can which she is grateful for. She might wonder how he could be so large when she, herself, is so petite. It might worry her if her mind weren’t so otherwise preoccupied. “There you go,” She says, letting his head settle gently against the cool dusrasteel panel behind him.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles again as she slowly extracts her wrist from his grasp.

“ _Shh_ ,” She soothes, “It’s alright, Ben.” She stands and he grabs for her but misses, his hand catching nothing but thin air. He looks to where he thinks she might be. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” His voice is rough, desperate and scared.

She leans down and brushes a bit of hair out of his face, tears still spilling down her cheeks. Her son. She smiles at him though he cannot see it.

“Vader took Luke before the Emperor. I’m – Luke is in danger. I have to help him.” She says, standing and retrieving and clipping her newly obtained lightsaber to her belt.

“No!” He calls after her as she turns to leave. He tries to stand on shaky legs but Leia pushes him back very gently with the Force. “Please, you can’t – you’re not ready! You’ll get yourself killed!”

“I have to, Ben.” She says gravely. She’s seen what will happen to Luke if Vader lets his master have him. She has to protect her brother. She doesn’t look back, though she hears Ben scrambling to approach her. “I’m sorry, but you’ll be safe here and I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

“Please, don’t go!” He cries, his voice catching with emotion. “Please, Mom!”

 _Mom_ – that’s what stops her. She looks back over her shoulder to find that Ben is sprawled across the ground, desperately fumbling on numb arms and legs. Her heart is torn between them, her brother and her son, the former rushing headlong towards his doom and the latter needing her more fiercely than anyone she has ever known. There’s old pain in his eyes, that and fear. Her hand grips the doorframe of the room as she steels herself. Both decisions laid before her seemed so wrong in their own unique and terrible ways, but choices this important are rarely ever easy.

“No,” She breathes finally, rushing back to Ben’s side, helping him sit back up. He clings to her as though he is afraid she may disappear. “I won’t leave you. I’m sorry.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Luke is a little late arriving to the hangar. He’d had to stop just a few hallways down from where he’d left Leia to wipe fiercely the wetness away from his eyes, though he’d not been able to do much of anything about how reddened they must be. His father doesn’t mention it, if he even notices, nor does he mention Luke’s tardiness. That, he’ll admit, is strange.

His father’s energy is pricklier than normal, Luke notices. It’s never _calm_ , but it’s usually steady at least, a constant thrum of low anger at best or a raging storm at worst. It’s never been so electric and irregular in all the time that Luke has known him. Though, to be fair, that hasn’t been very long.

“You are ready to go?” His father asks without looking at him.

“Yes,” Luke replies simply, because what else is there to say?

Is he ready to go and meet the emperor of the entire kriffing galaxy? The one that may or may not want him dead? No, absolutely not. Who could ever _possibly_ be ready for that? He’s sick with worry about it and sick with worry about Leia. Worried that his plan, as ramshackle as it is, will fall to pieces and that she and Ben won’t make it off of the ship, or worse, they’ll get hurt – but he can’t think about any of that.

Luke strains to clear his mind of all thoughts relating to his sister or Ben or plans. He’s gotten much better at it but he still projects very loudly and if his father gets even the slightest hint of what’s going on… well, it won’t be good. It’s hard going though because the more he tries not thinking about it the more it floods his mind and it’s really just a terrible self-perpetuating cycle.

“You are dismissed, Captain.” Luke’s father says and Luke had been too lost in his own thoughts to hear whatever they had been talking about before the dismissal. Whatever it was had irritated Luke’s father if his clipped tone has anything to say about it.

“We’re to escort you planet-side, Lord Vader.” The captain replies, a black-gloved hand coming up in a salute against his reflective flight helmet. “By order of His Imperial Majesty.”

“Why do we need an escort?” Luke whispers, hoping that he’s kept his voice low enough to not be picked up by the dozen or so stormtroopers following himself and his father into the _Lambda-_ class shuttle.

“We do not.” His father responds, clearly irritated.

Why, then, do they have an escort? Luke longs to ask, but something about the tense edge to his father’s presence convinces him not to. The air surrounding the shuttle feels electric and wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge and his gut clenches the same way it does when he’s preparing to turn the corner on Dead Man’s Turn. It’s dangerous and charged. 

His father sits in the pilot’s seat. The ship has already been prepared for departure, so there are no pre-flight sequences to run through, but his father checks a few systems anyway, ensuring that everything was done correctly. Luke sits in the co-pilot’s seat and tries to prepare himself for what comes next.

He does not know what to expect of the Emperor. He’s only seen a handful of holos of the man, though he would certainly recognize his face in a crowd. His aunt and uncle never spoke much about politics, save for complaining about the ever-increasing water taxes, but even he knows that the Empire is corrupt. The Death Star is proof enough of that, a weapon approved by, if not commissioned by, the Emperor, his father’s master. He wonders if the Emperor will be angry with him for his central role in its destruction, or if he even knows.

Luke is frightened. He’s not ashamed of that though, it seems only natural. He is afraid but he will meet his fear head-on. He has to be brave - brave for his sister and for Ben, so that they can escape, brave for his father, and brave for himself, and in the end, what is bravery without fear? His fear does not guide him or control him, but it is there and he will not pretend that it is not.

Ahsoka had once mentioned that his father had been dubbed the ‘Hero Without Fear’ by the galactic press due to his seemingly fearless exploits during the Clone Wars. Luke knows now just how incorrect that title is. His father is far from without fear. Its claws are sunk deep into him. It is as much a part of him as blood and bone. 

“Luke,” Luke’s father begins as the ship lifts from the hangar floor. Three TIE Fighters on either side of the shuttle rise as well, their escort preparing itself. “Why did you join me?” The troopers did not enter the cockpit, instead staying in the larger, central area of the shuttle just beyond the cabin’s closed door. Luke and his father are alone and the silence that settles over them is strained.

“Well,” Luke begins, staring at his hands where they lie clasped in his lap. He inhales deeply, allowing himself a moment to collect his thoughts. “I was told that it was my destiny to face you one day, to destroy you, and I knew that I couldn’t. I could never do that.”

“Why?”

“Wh - You’re my father.” Luke answers, slightly confused. The answer should be fairly obvious, he thinks. “And then there was the vision with Leia and I just - I knew I had to go to you.” He sighs. “I wanted to help you too. I thought that if I went to you, it might help you turn away from the Dark Side, but I think I was just a little full of myself.” He laughs ruefully. “It didn’t go the way I thought - hoped - it might, but I don’t think I regret it.

“I do regret you going after Leia, kidnapping her and freezing Ben, even after I told you about my vision. I wish you listened to me more and that you explained yourself… ever. I’ve spent my entire life thinking about you, imagining what you might be like, wondering if you were anything like me, hoping that I might make you proud. All I knew about you was that you were a pilot, so that’s what I wanted to be. I built up a fantasy, but that’s not really fair, and it was an illusion, one that no one could live up to. I think my expectations might have been a little unreasonable. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” His father says simply.

“Maybe,” Luke shrugs, his eyes still trained on his lap. “I wish I knew who you were - who you are. I’ve always wanted to know my father. It was my dream.”

The lights and sleek, black walls of the Devastator’s hangar give way to the cool blackness of space. Coruscant twinkles below and Luke can’t help but lean forward in his seat just a bit to get a better look. Aldera is the most urban place he’s ever been, but that had been a sleepy little hamlet compared to what he’s heard of Coruscant. Skyscrapers stretching as far as the eye can see and even farther beyond that, layers of city that go all the way down to the planet’s core if Fixer is to be believed, not that they had ever actually been.

The ride is a slow and steady one, a stark contrast to the wild, neck-breaking pace of their departure from Mustafar not too long ago. The shuttle is well-built and the cabin is quiet, save for the deep rasp of Luke’s father’s breathing. 

Suddenly, and seemingly without reason, Luke’s father pulls back hard on the ship’s yoke. The shuttle jerks sharply up into an unexpected loop that has Luke clinging to the armrests of his seat to keep from falling onto the ceiling. When the ship is righted, they are high above and behind the escort of TIEs.

Luke hardly has time to process what is happening as the targeting computer locks on to one of the TIEs and his father’s thumb depresses the trigger at the top of the steering console. The ship explodes and the others scramble, either in confusion or to get into a defensive position, it’s unclear.

“Lord Vader?” A voice accompanies the sound of pounding fists on the other side of the cockpit door.

“Father?” The word leaves Luke’s like a squeak as another TIE is destroyed. The other ships start firing back at them, green lasers flying through the emptiness of space that the bulky and much slower shuttle struggles to dodge. “What’s going on?”

“Sidious shall not have you.” His father responds, pulling the ship out of the way of incoming fire and blasting another TIE out of their path. “I will not let you be destroyed. That is not your destiny. I will not allow it.”

* * *

Rey doesn’t necessarily have a destination in mind when she flees the _Falcon_. It’s not as though she knows anyone aboard of _Home One_ , or even anyone in this time period besides those she’d left behind on the freighter. She kicks down the ladder beside the ship’s ramp and climbs atop.

She’s sat up here before, her and Chewie or Finn or Rose. Sometimes she would sit alone in the humid night air of Ajan Kloss and stare up at the stars, much like she would on Jakku after a long day of scavenging. She would sit and pretend to not wonder if Ben was looking at the same stars and systems and planets from his side of the galaxy just as she pretended not to be bothered when she felt him banging on the other end of the bond. What she wouldn’t give to feel that now. What she wouldn’t give to feel anything.

She knows that Han has followed her, though he hasn’t called her name. In fact, he says nothing as he sits down beside her and leans back on his arms. They watch the swirling, mesmerizing lights of hyperspace fly by out of the hangar door and don’t allow words to disturb their peace. It’s a fragile thing, one that isn’t meant to last.

Rey doesn’t blame Han for having questions. She’s certain that she would were she in the same position. She only wishes that they were easier to answer, or that deciding which ones she could answer would be an easier process. Who knows what seemingly meaningless answer could lead to potentially catastrophic changes in the future?

Imagine she’d mentioned the _Falcon_ being stolen and that Han had managed to prevent it somehow. Would she still be able to escape Jakku with Finn in her own time? Even if that was still possible, she’d never meet Han or Chewie, they never would have ended up on Takodana, she never would have found Luke’s lightsaber.

The longer she remains in the past the more she realizes what effect choices have on the world around her. It’s like dropping a stone in a pool of water, the ripples start out small but grow in size and intensity. What other changes have she and Ben made without even realizing it?

“Sorry for, uh, all of that back there, and for blowing up earlier.” Han says after a long while. He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “This is all, it’s just a lot.”

“I know,” Rey says, and she means it. “It’s fine, Han. I understand. Well, sort of. I’ve spent so many years waiting for my family that the prospect of finding them, any part, has never really struck me as frightening, but I think I get it.”

Han only hums in response. He doesn’t look at her with shock or horror or, worse, pity, like so many others who have learned of the wasted years she’d spent on Jakku waiting for people who had chosen to leave, who would and could never return.

Rey knows that Han doesn’t pity her, they’re too alike for that. Perhaps that’s why he’d taken to her so quickly, both in this time and her own, in a way he didn’t seem to for others. They’d both raised themselves in every way that counted. They were people who had scraped and struggled and survived, who had paid for everything they had with the dirt under their nails, and the last thing either of them would ever want in acknowledgement of that would be pity.

How they had found themselves in the company of royalty and Jedi is one of the many humorous quirks of the galaxy, Rey supposes.

“Must be strange for you too, being in the past.” He muses.

“A little, yeah,” Rey hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin atop them. She laughs then. “A lot, actually.”

“I’ll bet.” Han agrees, offering her a smile that only seems slightly strained. “So, what’s it like, then, the future? Don’t gotta tell me anything important. I’m just curious.”

“Well, obviously there have been some technical advancements, but Jakku was pretty backwards, even for the _future_ ,” She laughs again and it feels good to do so, like it is lightening a weight in her chest. “So, it all seems a bit like more of the same to me. I guess – Oh!” She perks up a bit. “I have been dying to tell you this but couldn’t, for obvious reasons. The coolant tank on the thermal regulator _needs_ to be replaced. Maybe not now, but soon. There’s a really terrible leak – I’m not sure how you never noticed it, and everything gets so corroded. I had to replace the entire regulator because of that leak, and do you know how much of a pain it is finding a compatible thermal regulator for a fifty-plus-year-old ship?”

“I’ll replace it,” Han manages out through a fit of laughter, wiping a tear away from his eye with the heel of his hand.

“Thank you,” She sighs, relieved. Replacing that part really had been a pain. She hadn’t even mentioned the headache of trying to find it on the black market as most legitimate alternatives were not an option for the Resistance or its members.

“You’ve flown my ship.”

“I have,” Rey agrees, though she offers no more.

“I should have known,” He laughs again, though this time is a bit sadder. “When you were going on and on about the _Falcon_ , I should have known something was up. I thought you were flirting with me.”

“So did Ben,” Rey admits with a small and slightly embarrassed smile. “I just really love this ship.”

“Well, who could blame ya? She’s a great ship.” Han pats the ship below him with a reverent hand.

“She is.”

“You really think they’re okay?” Han asks cautiously. He doesn’t need to elaborate. Just _who_ he is talking about is clear enough.

“I hope so.” Rey says. She doesn’t have the heart to promise anything to either him or herself. She can’t feel Ben at all and has no way of knowing how he or Leia or Luke are doing. She hopes that they’re okay, but hope is all she has. Leia would tell her that it would be enough. It will have to be. “I really do.”

“I don’t know what to say to him.” Han groans, his head falling back slightly. “Or Leia for that matter – does she know?”

“No, not unless Ben told her.” Rey shakes her head. “We really were going to tell you all back on Bespin. I was tired of lying.”

“That’s gonna be an awkward conversation.” He laughs. “ _Shit_ , what do I say to her? What do I say to him? How do you talk to your kid?”

“I don’t know,” Rey teases. “I don’t have any children of my own.”

“Don’t be too sure about that.” Han replies with a smirk. “You never know who might be your kid from the future. Happens more often than you’d think, I’ve heard.” He winks. “What about him?” He points to a Rebel Alliance pilot far below the _Falcon_ , all kitted in an orange flight suit, dark hair poking out from underneath their helmet. “You know what, never mind.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure I can handle finding out I’m both a father _and_ a grandfather in the same day.”

Rey laughs even as her cheeks heat up. A voice from the ship’s internal comm system rings through the hangar, instructing all flight crews to man their stations. Han taps Rey’s arm with the backsides of his fingers before standing.

“I think that means us, too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rey agrees, standing.

She is sliding down the _Falcon_ ’s ladder, the soles of her boots hitting the smooth hangar floor with a dull _slap_ , when the ship shifts from hyperspace to realspace. The sensation of completeness that rushes her is instantaneous and nearly overwhelming. For a moment she feels overfull, like she can’t possibly contain the energy bursting inside of her. There’s fear and panic and worry, but life too. She gasps and throws her arms around Han’s neck, tears pricking her eyes, her heart aching with wonderous relief.

“He’s alive.” She breathes. Han is hesitant, perhaps not understanding what she’s said, but he returns her embrace after a moment. “He’s alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben's back! Yay! 🎉🎉🎉 Such a relief!
> 
> Team Mama's Boy is reunited! This is, of course, cause for celebration. Additionally, Team Skywalker Plus-One has arrived on the scene. I'm sure they'll be able to collect their friends without incident. Team Dad Vader is going absolutely buck wild, though.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone for the kudos, bookmarks and comments! They absolutely make my day, you have no idea! 💖 This chapter was an absolute joy to write and I hope that you all enjoyed it! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	39. Fancy Seeing You Here!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have betrayed my master, Luke.” Vader admits. He sees no point in keeping his son in the dark on the danger he has put them in and part of him wishes to comply with Luke’s earlier request that he be more forthcoming with his explanations. “We are not safe here. We must retrieve your sister and leave this system immediately.”
> 
> “What?” Luke gasps. “Leia? Wait, no, we can’t!” Luke reaches across the space between the co-pilot and pilot’s seats and grabs at the steering unit, trying to pull it towards him. “Stop! We can’t go back. Not – not yet!”
> 
> \---
> 
> Vader did something good, so why does he feel so bad? Ben adjusts to being blinded by the light. Leia hates reunions.

Vader does not know why, exactly, he decides to betray his master, if there is even one single reason at all. Had it been the suspicious behavior of the escort forced upon him and his son by Sidious? Had it been his son’s words? Had it been Kenobi’s? Perhaps it had been all of it. Twenty years of miserable service, of torture and threats. Memories of a wife he could not save despite his master’s promises. Fear for his children whose fates had not yet been decided, whose fates he would not leave up to Sidious.

Perhaps it had been all of that or none of it. He does not know why he makes the decision, only that he does and that it feels right in a way nothing has for two decades. _This_ is right, so has everything else been wrong? There will be time to think on that later.

The four remaining TIEs scramble to get into attack position, but their pilots are no match for Vader, even despite his shuttle’s distinct size and speed disadvantage. The troopers on the other side of the cockpit cabin’s door beat upon it relentlessly, one trying to open it. Vader had locked it behind him when he and Luke entered, a standard precaution, but he holds it closed with the Force now. That bit of insurance splits his concentration somewhat, but it is worth it.

When the last of the TIEs are taken care of he turns the ship around, pointing back towards the _Devastator._ The star destroyer does not shoot at the shuttle, nor does it scramble more TIEs. It is possible that the crew of his ship are more loyal to him than to the Emperor, but relying on baseless hope does no one any good. It is more likely, he suspects, that the ship’s command is simply confused by his sudden turn. That benefit will only last so long, Vader knows, and he does not intend to waste any of that precious time. He pushes the yoke forward and sends the shuttle careening full-speed back towards the star destroyer.

“Father, what are you doing?” Luke asks, his voice shot through with anxiety.

“I have betrayed my master, Luke.” Vader admits. He sees no point in keeping his son in the dark on the danger he has put them in and part of him wishes to comply with Luke’s earlier request that he be more forthcoming with his explanations. “We are not safe here. We must retrieve your sister and leave this system immediately.”

“What?” Luke gasps. “Leia? Wait, no, we can’t!” Luke reaches across the space between the co-pilot and pilot’s seats and grabs at the steering unit, trying to pull it towards him. “Stop! We can’t go back. Not – not yet!”

“Why not?” Vader asks. He pushes Luke back into his own seat and presses the boy’s hands flat against the armrests with the Force.

“Let me go!” Luke whines, struggling against the hold on his wrists.

“Why can we not return to the ship, Luke? We cannot leave your sister behind. Sidious knew about you and your relation to me before I told him. It is possible he already knows about Leia. She is in grave danger if that is the case.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asks, settling a bit.

“My –” He stops himself, the Emperor is not his master any longer and Vader will not refer to the Sith as such. “Sidious would send someone after her if that were the case, especially with my being off-ship. That could be the reason for our escort.”

“Send someone after her?” Luke repeats, clearly frightened by the prospect.

“Yes. A guard to escort her to the palace or perhaps even an assassin.” Vader admits, something sharp stabbing in his chest at the thought. Leia is locked in her room and without a weapon to defend herself. Were she attacked, she would stand no chance. He must get to her. He never should have left her, never should have brought her or Luke here in the first place. So many mistakes, a lifetime full of them.

“ _Assassin_?” Luke swallows hard. “Father, I –” He sucks in a long, deep breath. “I-may-have-let-Leia-out-of-her-room-and-knocked-out-the-guards-so-that-she-and-Ben-could-escape.” He says quickly, the entire sentence merging to form one breathless word.

“You _may have_?” Vader questions, incredulous.

“I did,” His son replies meekly.

“Why would you do that? She is my daughter and I –”

“She’s an adult.” Luke protests. “She should be able to make her own choices. You can’t just kidnap people because you think they belong with you – it’s not right!”

“She is my daughter.” Vader repeats. He does not see how further explanation is necessary. She _was_ kidnapped by the Organas and now she is where she rightfully belongs, even if she does not see it that way yet. “And she is hardly an adult.”

“We’re _nineteen._ ” Luke asserts with a petulant frown.

“I am aware of how old you are.” Vader responds flatly. “Nineteen is still a child.”

“You got married at nineteen.”

“That is different! I – _How do you know that_?”

“Artoo told me.” Luke admits quietly, his shoulders shrugged up to his ears.

Vader suppresses a growl. That _droid_ needs to learn how to keep his circuits out of other people’s business. Otherwise, Vader will have no choice but to turn him into scrap metal. He’d be more useful that way, surely, and far less of an irritant. Why he has not done so already is a mystery. It must be because his son is so fond of the astromech. There is no other explanation.

“You let her out of her room. Did you provide her with a weapon?”

“Yes,” Luke says. “I’m not going to apologize.” He adds defiantly. “I’m not sorry. It was the right thing to do.”

Vader disagrees but does not voice it. Keeping his daughter from him is definitely not the _right_ thing to do, but perhaps in this case it will work out in their benefit. She is armed, at the very least, and that provides a balm to his fractured soul. That will buy them time, he expects. His daughter is trained somewhat, not well, but she may be able to handle herself well enough.

If only his grandson were not frozen. The man’s technique is sloppy and peculiar, a bit awkward and certainly heavy-handed, but though he lacks the discipline and training Vader received, he _can_ fight. Technically. Leia having his assistance would be better than nothing, at least. Never mind, he can chastise himself more on that mistake at a later time.

Any confusion surrounding Vader’s return to the ship seems to have dissipated. TIEs leave the hangar in attack formation, too many for Vader to handle on his own, at least in this bulky shuttle. Were he in his TIE Advanced, there would be no question, but he is not.

He swings the shuttle down low, avoiding incoming laser-fire, but there is too much. The shuttle’s shields manage to block most of the shots but are rendered little more than meaningless when a wing clips one of the TIEs zooming by, a large chunk of it denting badly. Vader manages to keep the ship from spinning out of control but just flying in a straight line is now a near monumental task. He points the nose down at the hangar and pushes the ship as fast as it will go.

“Brace yourself,” He instructs. Luke looks over at him with wide, confused eyes.

“Wait!” He cries out, his hands clutching the armrests of the co-pilot’s seat with white knuckles. “Are you going to crash us?” Luke pushes himself back further into his seat as the black-floored hangar draws ever-closer.

“I have little other choice.” Vader explains. “Brace yourself.” He repeats.

Just before the shuttle impacts the shining floor of the _Devastator_ ’s hangar bay Vader pulls up. The ship jolts violently as it makes contact. Vader projects a Force shield around his son as the transparisteel viewport before them cracks and shatters from the force of the landing. None of the shards manage to penetrate the armor of Vader’s suit and they bounce harmlessly off of the shield surrounding Luke.

The shuttle tears through the floor of the lager ship. Sparks fly, explosions sound, the stormtroopers in the cargo hold of the shuttle scream in confusion and fear. They skid through the hangar, through TIES and troopers, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. Vader has to call on the Force to slow their trajectory, lest they crash into the far wall.

When the flaming wreckage that was once a shuttle finally stops the ship is left at an odd angle. The nose is tilted up towards the ceiling, meaning that the ship’s ramp is likely buried in the floor below. The tilt of the shuttle is difficult to compensate for when standing, but Vader manages.

Leaping, even with the aid of the Force, is a difficult task with the suit. It is cumbersome and while that is something that Vader has learned to accommodate, there are certain things rendered impossible, or very nearly so, by the weight of it alone. Jumping around is not really something he finds himself doing often, in any case. Any dexterity required in his previous fighting forms is compensated _by_ the bulk of the suit. It has forced him to embrace being an immovable object, an unstoppable force, and has suited him well enough thus far even if he knows that it is a hindrance.

Unfortunately, sometimes there is simply no other option.

Vader lifts himself with the Force, pushing off of the tilted ground below his boots and coming up to land on the other side of the shattered viewport. He ignites his blade beside him and takes stock of his surroundings. The hangar is in pandemonium. Ship parts litter the ground and fires rage, a irreparably damaged TIE explodes in the distance. No one shoots at him in the confusion, not yet in any case. Luke climbs up beside him, nearly slicing his arm open on a jagged piece of transparisteel.

“Be careful!” Vader scolds.

“You’re one to talk,” Luke grunts, carefully avoiding the dangerous debris. “You just crashed us into another ship!”

“That was necessary.” Vader says before dropping to the ground with a booming thud.

Two troopers look in his direction and he can feel their confusion. One of them pauses, his blaster pointed toward the ground at Vader’s feet. The questions running through the stormtrooper’s mind are so clear, Vader can almost see them. Does he shoot or not? Vader is, after all, the commander of this ship, or was. The trooper’s training conflicts with his most recent orders. Is Vader truly an enemy of the Empire? Vader does not allow himself to be bogged down by such indecision as he slices through the two troopers.

“What are we doing?” Luke asks as he jumps down beside Vader.

“We are going to get your sister.”

* * *

“ _Shh_ , I’m right here.” Bens mother soothes, running her fingers through his hair and brushing the tears from his cheeks.

Blind as he is, it is easy to imagine that the swirling mixture of shadow and light that kneels before him is his mother as he remembers her - a little older and a bit sadder, world-wearier and wiser, the weight of a lost planet and the future of the galaxy burdening her shoulders. For a moment, he can pretend that she is the woman who would hold him as he woke from nightmares, terrified and tearful. She will be that woman one day, or she might be. He can allow himself this comfort, no matter how delusional or undeserved it is, even for just a short time.

“How long?” He asks as he struggles to sit up a little straighter. His limbs are mostly numb still, but he has regained a bit of control over them. His sight seems to be returning as well, which he takes as a good sign even if he can only see movement and light. “How long have I been…”

“I’m not sure.” Leia answers softly. “I wasn’t conscious when Vader brought us aboard and I’ve been trapped in my room since. At least a couple of days I think, though it’s possible that it’s been longer than that.”

A series of whirring beeps confirms Leia’s suspicions. R2D2 nudges Ben’s leg, perhaps in greeting or concern, and he leans over to pat the droid’s head.

“Okay,” Ben nods.

A few days is nothing compared to a year. He tries to push off the wall and stand but that instantly seems like a bad idea. His knees threaten to buckle underneath him and he gags through a wave of nausea. No wonder his father had complained of hibernation sickness so often. He regrets every time he rolled his eyes at one of Han’s stories, though he regrets a lot of things when it comes to his father.

“Take it slow,” Leia instructs, wrapping both of her hands over his forearm in an attempt to steady his wobbling.

Ben attempts to take a small step forward and stumbles, nearly sending both himself and his mother tumbling to the ground. He curses and instantly his face heats up with embarrassment.

“Sorry,”

“That’s alright,” Leia laughs, patting his arm. “I think that you’re allowed to curse in front of your mother when you’re older than she is.”

Ben laughs, the sound is rusty and dry, like something long disused. It dissolves into a fit of hacking coughs, bits of still solid carbonite dislodging from his lungs and throat. Leia rubs his back and calms him through the worst of it.

“We’re on Vader’s ship?” He asks, his voice rough. “How did you manage to get out of your room?”

“Luke,” His mother answers, sounding a little guilty. “He helped me escape and get to you. Vader is taking him planet-side, to the Emperor. He’s going to kill him and Vader will let him.” She sniffles slightly.

“What?”

“I saw it. The Emperor, he shot lightning from his fingertips, he was killing Luke, and Vader did nothing.” She explains. Ben can feel a small spark of anger rising in her. It seeps into her tone.

“You saw that in a vision?” He looks in her direction for clarification, though what he’d hoped to read in the blurry Leia-shaped blob of color and motion is unclear, even to him. “You can’t always trust those.”

“How do you mean?”

“Visions - they can be unclear.” He explains. “Sometimes, you can see something and think you understand what it means, but you’re seeing something else entirely.”

He thinks back to what he saw when Rey had reached out across the bond and he took her hand. He’d seen her parents, how they sold her and left her behind to rot away in that desert-hell, how she knew but had been keeping it from herself. He’d seen her fighting Snoke’s guards by his side and thought that’d meant that she would turn, that she would join him. He’s never asked her what she had seen that day, but he imagines that it had been similar and that her interpretation had been the same as well.

He’d dissected that vision in the months following countless times, tried to make sense of it, even as she shut him out completely. He’d been so _sure_. The future he’d envisioned had been so solid and clear. He’d been so certain that she would join him that he’d been shocked, to say the least, when her first thought had been of the Resistance fleet. Perhaps he’d been so set on what he’d thought the vision meant that it’s true meaning, if any could be gleaned from it at all, was lost?

Maybe he was meant to turn. Maybe neither of them were. Maybe nothing is ever _meant_ to happen. Maybe there is no such thing as fate or destiny. Maybe the galaxy is governed only by the choices of those who inhabit it. The thought is both terrifying and liberating, especially to the man whose life has felt shadowed by destiny for so long.

“I think it’s better to not place too much weight on visions.” He adds after some time.

“Ben,” Leia begins. She’s said his name before, has called him ‘Ben’ since they met, since before he started thinking of himself by that name again, but it feels different somehow. She knows now that he is her son, and that weight hangs from every word spoken between them. “I saw something else, something I don’t understand, and I -” She trails off in a shuddering breath.

“What is it?”

“Later.” She says quickly. “We can - I’ll ask about it later. Right now, we need to get off of this ship.”

“I agree.” He says though his brow furrows in concern at the uneasy feeling infusing his mother’s presence in the Force. “Where on the ship are we, exactly?”

He’d studied the layouts of various star destroyers when creating the plans for his own, and though he has certainly looked at the blueprints for the _Devastator_ , his knowledge of its layout is far from encyclopedic. He’d spent much more time memorizing the _Executor_ or its sister ship, the _Eclipse_.

“Vader’s personal apartments, I believe.” Leia answers. “Luke told me that there is an elevator not far from here that will take us almost directly to the ship’s hangar.”

“That makes sense,” Ben says with a nod. That was typically how high-ranking officer’s suites worked on ships like these, and it would be difficult to be higher-ranked aboard the _Devastator_ than Vader. “The trick will be getting there without getting shot, I think.”

“Oh!” His mother pulls on his arm, causing him to stagger forward. “Luke brought you an officer’s uniform. I think his plan was to have us sneak through the ship in disguise.”

“That would be a good plan, though I fear Luke may not have thought it through very well.” Ben says. His mother stops and he thinks she turns, though he still cannot quite see her well.

“Why do you say that?”

“Disguises would be a great way to get around if our faces hadn’t been spread around the galaxy on wanted holos and on the holonet. I’m not sure if the Empire has my likeness, but your face is certainly going to be well known.” He explains.

“Yes,” Leia agrees. “I suppose that would make this plan more difficult.” She hums and Ben can perfectly imagine her face, brows drawn together, mouth pinched, deep in thought, considering every possible option. “Masks, something to conceal our faces perhaps – Do you think you could fit in a stormtrooper’s uniform?” She pauses. “You’re quite tall.”

“I am,” Ben agrees stiffly. It’s not an especially terrible plan, but he’s not sure it’s something they can realistically pull off. Additionally, he’s not overly fond of masks or helmets any longer. “I can’t say I’ve ever tried one on before. We can try but may have to fight our way out anyway.” He warns.

“Ben, you’re _blind_ ,” She chides, as though he needs the reminder. “How could you possibly…”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Ben assures her. He takes a step forward, it is much easier now that he can actually fully feel his feet. “I don’t need to see.”

 _Don’t trust your eyes, kids. They can deceive you_. For reasons Ben has never truly been able to understand, much of his uncle’s practical teaching of the Force required that he and the other students be blindfolded. Luke insisted that to understand the Force they had to _feel_ it, not _see_ it. This confused a young Ben Solo who hadn’t ever read anything like that in any of the Jedi texts he had studied. Kylo Ren had assumed Skywalker was a fool, making things up as he went along. Ben now had never been more grateful for his uncle’s bizarre and often frustrating lessons.

“Please don’t be –” She groans. “We don’t have time for ridiculous bravado. We need to get you out of here, we –”

Ben hushes her with a hiss. “Do you hear that?”

Voices, in the other room, muffled by the thickness of the walls and door but distinct enough to not confuse with the natural sounds of a ship in space. Ben closes his eyes and lets his mind open to the Force. It surrounds all things, ties everything together, living and inanimate. He can sense the wall a few paces away without seeing it as clearly as the lifeforms on the other side.

“Eight,” He whispers, gingerly stepping close to the wall separating he and Leia from whomever has come to call on Vader. His mother is quick and needs no other explanation. “Do you have a weapon?”

He can feel her nodding beside him, but she seems to realize her mistake quickly. “Yes,” She responds in a hushed tone. She is out of his grasp in the next second, quickly returning and placing something cool and cylindrical into the palm of his hand – a lightsaber. It is not his own, he realizes that in an instant, but not is certainly not the time to complain about something like that. He presses his ear against the door.

“ _She’s not here, sir_.”

“ _Guards are knocked out too. We need to inform the Emperor immediately._ ”

“ _Did anyone check the other rooms_?”

Ben doesn’t leave time for anyone to answer that question. He ignites the blade his mother gave him, a blurred flash of purple light, and then he closes his eyes again. _Stretch out with your_ feelings _, Ben._ That had always been the difficult part, deciding which feelings were appropriate to stretch out with. The easiest ones, the ones that always found Ben the quickest were anger and fear, but those were met with disapproving eyes and calm words that steadily grew impatient with time.

Ben does not find anger now, which is something new. The absence of that previously near-constant presence in his life is only months if not weeks old. Neither does he find the calm serenity that Luke would have instructed is best. The fear is still there, fear for his mother, for Rey, even for himself, but there is a way to channel this without pulling to or from the Dark. The desire to protect, to defend, how could that be anything but of the Light?

He reaches out to open the door but something stops him. A wave of warmth, relief, terrible worry. Rey. A smile spreads across his face and though his vision could hardly blur any more than it already is, he feels tears gather in his eyes. She is alive. She’s here, in the system at least, and she is alive.

 _Ben!_ Her voice in his head is welcome, unlike the others that have called it home in the past.

_Rey? Where are you?_

_With Han, Ahsoka, and Chewie. We’re with the Rebel Alliance. We’re coming for you._

Ben’s throat constricts with emotion. Part of him wishes that he could dissuade her, not because he doesn’t want the help, but rather because he doesn’t want her to put herself in danger. He knows that she wouldn’t listen to any of his arguments, so he doesn’t make them. She’s come to his rescue before.

Even if rescue is coming, the company in the other room still needs to be dealt with, and Ben doubts he and his mother have much longer before they decide to search every room. The door opens at Ben’s command and he closes his eyes.

When he sees them, the stormtroopers or whomever was sent to collect Leia, they are like dim lights bobbling before him in the fabric of the Force. He can see the bolts from their blasters as well, the way they burn bright with danger and intent. The hilt of his saber clenched tightly in both hands, he blocks the shots with the blade because he _knows_ where they will be. The bolts fly off, some dying harmlessly against a wall or floor, but one finds its mark.

One of the dim lights grows even more faint and is then extinguished. No, it’s not extinguished at all. It diffuses, fading to gray and then into the black surrounding it, scattering along the web of the Force, the bindings of the universe. Ben has never seen a death like this before, though he’s been the cause of many. It instills him with a great sense of wonder and guilt, neither of which he can allow to distract him now.

He pulls one of the lights towards him, skewers the person it emanates from with his blade. There is the distinct sound of a lightsaber igniting beside him. He takes a wide, protective step to the side, trying to place himself between his mother and their attackers.

“Stay back,” He instructs maybe a bit too gruffly.

“I’m not just going to stand around doing nothing!” Leia protests, her tone making her irritation clear. She’s so _stubborn_! “I’m going to help.”

“And I’m not going to let you get yourself killed!”

Fighting without his sight is something that is possible, but that does not mean it is easy. He has to be twice as aware of his surroundings as usual, especially since he has Leia to protect. He swings his blade wide to cut through one intruder and then quickly flicks it back up to block an incoming shot. He tosses a piece of furniture, it’s impossible to tell what, across the room, taking out two others.

Something looms nearby, something cold, something dark, something Ben recognizes. His eyes fly open at the same time as the door on the other side of the room does. The last attacker hits the ceiling with a sickening thud and Ben hears the crunch of broken bone, but it is not his doing. A shadow stands in the doorway, a dark specter, their sword glowing red by their side.

“No,” His mother breathes. Vader is here.

* * *

Luke steps out from behind Vader, his face half apprehensive, half apology. Leia growls lowly in the back of her throat and places herself squarely in front of Ben, the green blade of her stolen lightsaber crossed diagonally across her chest.

“Luke, you – you said you would –” She can’t even finish what she’d been about to say, the rage crawling up her throat steals the words from her mouth. She’d thought they’d be able to get away, that somehow, despite their incredible disadvantages, she and Ben would actually manage to escape. She’d been a fool, of course.

“I’m sorry, Leia,” He says, and he genuinely seems so, but Leia hardly cares right now. “Things have, um, changed.”

“Leia, please, don’t…” Ben’s hand is on her shoulder. He sounds exhausted. She doesn’t move behind him, instead, she digs her heels in and stands her ground. Vader can’t have him again, no one will harm her son, not so long as she lives and breathes.

Angry, accusatory beeps sound out behind Leia. R2D2 rolls out and around to face Luke, who looks almost more abashed by the droid’s censure than his own sister’s. Leia doesn’t catch quite everything the astromech says, can’t process the different tones and lengths of beeping and warbling at the speed it is going, but she does catch a few curses, things she’d never learned in formal lessons.

“We do not have the time for this, we must go.” Vader says.

“As if I would _ever_ go anywhere willingly with you!” She huffs, pointing the tip of her blade at Vader. If it bothers him, she cannot tell. “As if I would ever let Ben.” She squares her shoulders, preparing for a fight. Whose side would Luke choose, in the end? He’d said he didn’t want to, but he would have to, eventually.

“I won’t let you take her to your master.” Ben says.

“You are in no condition to fight me, nor do we have the time.” Vader responds coolly. “Sidious is… no longer my master. I will be bringing no one to him today.”

“You – what?” Ben’s hand on Leia’s shoulder tenses in what she thinks might be surprise. “You really... you have to run.”

“We,” Vader corrects. “We have to leave this ship, this system, immediately. These men,” He gestures to the dead stormtroopers that litter the room. They are higher-ranked ones. Leia can tell as much from the colored pieces of armor decorating their shoulders. “Were sent after Leia by Sidious, I suspect. We are all in danger.”

“And we’ll be safer around _you_?” Leia sniffs.

“Yes.” Vader responds simply.

“No, I don’t trust you. I have no reason to.” She shakes her head. “Especially not around Ben.”

“We do not have –” Vader is cut off by the sound of blaster fire and shouting from the hallway behind him. He wastes no time in turning around and meeting the unseen attackers head on.

“Ben, we can’t –” Leia faces Ben and he grips both of her shoulders, his lightsaber unignited. He looks down at her and frowns, his eyes still a bit glassy and uncertain. He sighs.

“I’m not sure we have much of a choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team Mama's Boy and team Dad Vader have joined forces, and very willingly so! Isn't it nice to see the Skywalker family working together and getting along for once? Is the galaxy prepared for that? Almost certainly not. I don't think this many Skywalkers were ever intended to be in one place at one time. This timeline is kind of screwy. 🤪 I'm sure when team Skywalker Plus-One arrives to retrieve their babies everything is going to go really, really smoothly. Ahsoka and Vader haven't seen each other in, what, three years? I'm sure they've been dying to catch up. 
> 
> Some minor housekeeping! I am moving right after Christmas (great timing, I know). I don't think that this should affect my regular posting schedule, but if any day is impacted it would be the 3rd of January for sure! If I don't have the chapter ready by that date I will do my best to get it up ASAP. Like I said, I don't think it should be, but I wanted to get this out there just in case! 💗
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments - I genuinely appreciate every one of them so much and they always manage to make my day! 💖 I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	40. An Abundance of Skywalkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s going on down there?” Ahsoka’s wary voice crackles through the earpiece of Han’s headset.
> 
> “Looks like they got started without us.” Rey responds.
> 
> “I’m not gonna complain about that.” Han laughs, even if only to off set the confusion and nerves boiling in his gut.
> 
> “No – I have a bad feeling about this.” Ahsoka says.
> 
> \---
> 
> Team Skywalker Plus-One is ready to get their Skywalkers back. Team Vader N' Kids are just trying to get off of Darth Dad's ship.

Ben’s mother is spitting mad, he can feel it even if he still can’t quite see the hard set of her mouth or the fire in her eyes.

“I don’t understand how you can trust him.” She hisses.

“I don’t,” Ben sighs.

Ben does not trust Vader. Trust is a complicated thing, and something Ben has very little experience in. It is easily broken and difficult, if not nearly impossible, to mend. It is easy to trust the wrong people, the ones who whisper half-truths and re-enforce secret beliefs, and the right people are just as readily mistrusted. Though Ben still knows so little of true trust, he _does_ know that it is not always needed to work with someone – his relationships in the First Order were testament enough to that.

“It isn’t about trust.” He says finally. “It’s about reality. Neither of us can fight him, and all of us need to get off of this ship. We don’t have to trust him to have a common goal.”

“A _common goal_ hardly makes us allies.” She says dismissively, but then her shoulders slump under his grasp. “But perhaps you’re right.”

“The Alliance is here,” He whispers, careful to keep his voice low. He should have mentioned it earlier, but forgot in the commotion. “We go along with Vader now and figure it out afterwards.”

“How do you know?”

“Rey told me – I’ll explain it later, but Vader is right, we should go now.” He releases her shoulders and grabs her wrist, ensuring that she still has her weapon. “Keep this on you,” He presses a finger to the hilt in her hand. “No matter what, okay? Stay near me when you can, but I know that you can handle yourself.”

His mother huffs a sad sound and nods. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one protecting you?” She clutches the lightsaber to her chest.

Ben grins. “Maybe when you’re older.” Leia sniffs, clearly displeased with his joke. “Leia, you’re… very young. I don’t expect you to be my mother, or, you know, not yet.” He shrugs.

“I’m sorry,” She sniffles again. “I want – I just – I don’t know what I’m doing.” She adds with a watery little laugh.

“Neither do I.”

“Come on!” Luke implores from the doorway. Ben can see flashes of red light behind his uncle, blaster bolts, warning lights, the blade of his grandfather’s lightsaber – the blue of Luke’s blade stands out in stark contrast against the crimson background.

Vader says nothing as Ben and Leia join him in the hall. If he is at all relieved, he does not show it. Perhaps he’d just assumed their agreeing, their joining him was an inevitability? It’s impossible to know with his grandfather.

“Where are you taking us?” Ben asks. He ignites his saber, the purple blade shining brightly in his blurred vision.

“The ship’s hangar is on a lower level, we –”

“After the hangar.” Ben interrupts. A blaster bolt whizzes by his face, too close for comfort.

“Did no one teach you to block?” Vader growls beside him.

“I know how to block.” Ben responds flatly, intercepting the next few shots with his blade expertly as if to prove himself. “My vision has been impaired. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Was your vision impaired on Alderaan as well?”

Ben has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at Vader. “No,” He grounds out. He wonders if his grandfather is _trying_ to irritate or distract him.

“Had you not been so resistant to joining me, as I had asked, such extreme measures to contain you would not have been necessary.” Vader replies simply, not an ounce of apology in his tone. “I have been frozen in carbonite before, myself. Your dramatics will earn you no sympathy from me.”

Ben almost laughs at the idea of receiving anything even close to sympathy from Vader – _almost_.

“Where are you taking us – _after_ the hangar? What is your plan?” Vader doesn’t respond and Ben roars in frustration as he cuts down an attacking stormtrooper who dared to get just a bit to close. “You’ll have to tell me if you want my help.”

“And what makes you think I require your help?” Vader bites back. “I instructed you to come with me. At no point did I request assistance.” He throws one arm out and sends three stormtroopers flying backwards, knocking a few of their comrades hard onto their backs.

“I dislike this as much as you do, maybe more, but it will be helpful if I know what your plan is – assuming you have one.” He prods. He needs to know Vader’s plan so that he can start to formulate his own.

“Of course I have one.” Vader says. He runs the tip of his blade through a nearby stormtrooper. “Mustafar,” he adds after a brief pause. “I have a fortress there.”

“I am aware.” Ben has been to that fortress, long abandoned in his own time, the grounds populated only by groups of cultists who protect the forest of irontrees surrounding the castle. He’d not spent much time there, going only once with Snoke, convinced he was not yet worthy to walk that ‘ _hallowed_ ’ ground. “And you’re sure that’s safe?”

“The fortress there is my own. I oversaw its design. Those who live and work there are loyal to _me_ above all.”

“You’re certain of that?” Ben knows all too well about overestimating the loyalty of others.

“Yes!” Vader retorts, sounding almost offended, even through the vocal modulator in his helmet. “They have sworn their allegiance. They would not betray me.”

“I’m sure Sidious felt the same way.”

“And your master as well.” Vader says coolly. “I would not be so foolish.”

Yes. Snoke had been a fool, arrogant and far too sure of Ben’s loyalty, too sure that he’d known Ben’s mind. He hadn’t. Anyone could be betrayed. Ben and his grandfather had both feared their masters, but fear does not cultivate loyalty, it breeds only contempt. Does his grandfather inspire loyalty in those that follow him with anything other than fear? Can that loyalty be trusted without the might of the Empire to back it up? It doesn’t matter to Ben either way. He has no intentions of joining his grandfather on Mustafar.

“When we arrive on Mustafar you will tell me about the future.” Vader says. The declaration, the command, really, brokers no argument and though Ben has many to make he doesn’t bother.

“We’ll see about that.” He replies with a sneer.

Ben senses some unknown approach from the back and whips around just in time to see his uncle dispatch them, his blue blade carving through white plastoid-composite armor like it’s nothing at all. His mother kicks out, her heel hitting a trooper’s armored stomach. They lurch back and she slices diagonally across their chest. It settles the anxious coiling in his chest to see that they are able to handle themselves well enough, even with their lack of training.

The corridor leading from Vader’s quarters to the turbo lift that would take them down to the hangar is not especially long, but the resistance they meet along the way slows them considerably. Ben does not allow himself to relax even when the lift doors close behind him, separating their group from their attackers, even for just a short while. He waves a hand in front of his face to test his own vision, it’s gotten much better but is still not back fully yet. Leia places a hand on his arm and he flashes her a small smile, an attempt at comfort.

The lift lurches and jolts to a stop. The lights above flicker and die.

“ _Shit_ ,” Ben hisses.

His stomach flies up into his throat as the floor drops out from underneath his feet. The lift plummets in a free fall down towards the bottommost level of the ship. Ben wraps his influence around the whole of the lift, willing its descent to slow and stop. He can sense Vader doing the same thing. The sound of screaming metal on metal rings harshly through the lift’s interior as the thing squeals to a halt, hitting the floor with much less force than it would have otherwise.

Vader ignites his lightsaber, the red glow of it the only source of light within the small compartment of the turbolift. He cuts a section of the ceiling out with the burning, red blade and pushes the slab of durasteel through the molten opening with the Force. He waits just long enough for the glowing edges of the hole to darken and cool before turning to the rest of them.

Ben does not need to wait for instruction before crouching and lacing his fingers together. He helps boost Luke and Leia up onto the roof of the lift before hopping up himself, but not before stealing a glance at Vader, a dark sentinel washed in the glow of his scarlet blade. He is nothing but a mixture of shadow and light, Ben’s grandfather, an indistinct shape very nearly lost to the gloom behind.

He hauls himself through the opening after his mother. He opens the external doors in front of them and the light of the hallway outside floods the vertical lift shaft. He steps out into the corridor, into the whining of sirens and slowly oscillating emergency lights. He can hear the sound of battle in the near distance, blaster fire and shouting. He senses her nearness, Rey’s. She’s on the ship, he’s sure of it.

* * *

Han is so happy, so relieved, he can’t speak. He claps Rey’s back twice and returns her embrace with enthusiasm. They rejoice together in the newfound revelation that Ben and Leia are _alive_ and _okay_ as the rest of the hangar on _Home One_ bursts into action. Pilots rush to their X-Wings and bombers, astromechs are lifted and slotted into their co-piloting sockets, mechanics and engineers make last minute checks to different ship systems and controls, but Han and Rey are frozen.

He doesn’t know who breaks their hold first, her or him, but the next thing he knows they are both pounding up the ramp of the _Falcon_. Ahsoka and Chewie are already in the main corridor, stilled now by shock or surprise. He laughs when he sees them.

“What’re the two of you standing around for?” He asks, unable to keep the smirk on his face from turning into a full-on grin. “Thought we had some people that needed saving?” He doesn’t wait for anyone to answer before continuing. “Chewie, with me. Rey and Ahsoka, top and bottom turrets, don’t care who gets which. Ladies’ choice.”

With that, he bursts off, flying into the cockpit and throwing himself into the pilot’s chair. He throws switches and revs up systems, preparing the old girl for take off, a familiar adrenaline singing in his veins. He grabs the steering controls after securing the headset commlink over his ears and he feels in control of his situation in a way he hasn’t since finding out about Ben.

He can actually _do_ something now, something productive, something more than just sit around and brood and worry and waste time. He can fly his ship straight onto Vader’s and get Leia and their kid back, Luke too if their lucky. He grips the yoke a little tighter in anticipation and turns to Chewie.

“You ready, Pal?” Chewie responds with a roar. It’s a war cry if Han’s ever heard one.

The ship rises and takes off at his command. It zips between Rebel Alliance ships scrambling to get into attach formation. Han is not a formal part of any of their squadrons and is more than happy that he doesn’t have to worry about any of that.

He sees the star destroyer in the distance, Vader’s. It’s not the only one in the system, far from it really. Though that’s to be expected when you show up on the doorstep of the Empire. None of the other cruisers are close enough to pose much of a threat yet, and hopefully they’ll be quick enough that the slower ships won’t have time to make it over for a proper battle. Their TIEs are going to be a pain in the neck, though.

Han notices explosions in the distance, and tell-tale signs of a dogfight already in progress which is strange because he doesn’t think the Alliance has been in the system long enough for any of their attack squadrons to have made it all the way to Vader’s ship. There’s not really any other explanation though, unless they’re fighting themselves.

“What’s going on down there?” Ahsoka’s wary voice crackles through the earpiece of Han’s headset.

“Looks like they got started without us.” Rey responds.

“I’m not gonna complain about that.” Han laughs, even if only to off set the confusion and nerves boiling in his gut.

“No – I have a bad feeling about this.” Ahsoka says.

Han doesn’t like her suspicious tone, the worry it stirs in him. He knows that, in the end, she’s right. What they’re seeing, the Empire picking at itself, is certainly not what they’d expected to find. It feels wrong. Han knows when a deal’s gone sour, has seen that happen enough times to recognize it by heart, but he’s not ready to pull out of this one quite yet.

He doesn’t know what he’ll find on that ship – well, he does, he’s just not sure what to do with it. He has such little experience with having a family he doesn’t know what’s expected of him. It’s nerve-wracking for sure, but not enough to make him turn around now, not even the threat of going toe-to-toe with Vader himself would be enough to do that.

“Well, we’ve got company, folks.”

Han dips the _Falcon_ low as TIEs approach, their laser-fire angry and green and threatening. A few nearby X-Wings draw off some of the attack while those remaining are picked off by Rey and Ahsoka.

The confusion surrounding Vader’s ship does not ebb as they draw closer, though the Imperials have finally seemed to figure out just who they should be shooting at. Even from a distance, Han sees fire and clear signs of wreckage in the hangar residing on the belly of the star destroyer. The shining floor has been ripped up and a shuttle is half-buried at the end of the line of destruction. Stormtroopers who had been running around, putting out fires both very literal and likely figurative, stop in their tracks and turn to fire on the intruding _Falcon_ as it lands.

Ahsoka and Rey are leaping from the ship’s ramp before it’s even touched the ground, their laser swords igniting and blocking shots before Han can even see them coming. He and Chewie play backup with their blaster and boltcaster respectively.

Rey looks back and calls something out, but her voice is lost amongst blaster-fire and a low, droning siren, one surely marking their arrival or perhaps just the attack in general. She runs off towards the opening of a nearby corridor but quickly stumbles backward, her eyes wide and mouth open.

Han doesn’t see it coming, and he certainly doesn’t sense it. The glow of his red sword is drowned out by the slowly-rotating lights overhead of the same color, and he doesn’t know to attribute the biting cold in the air to anything but a faulty internal temperature system. It’s like the hangar’s magnetic shield has busted when that tower of darkness and armor crosses the hallway’s threshold. All of the air escapes the ship in one, swift gust.

Han doesn’t even think, he raises his blaster and aims straight for Vader’s heart. It doesn’t do anything.

Han doesn’t miss, he’s a hell of a good shot, but Vader reaches out and almost seems to catch the fiery bolt in one gloved hand and it does _nothing_. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow. Han takes a step back, unsure of what to do, his mind scrambling for some kind of solution. He doesn’t even realize that Vader is attacking the stormtroopers just as they are.

* * *

“It’s Ben!” Rey calls out, her voice only barely audible over the din of battle. “I can sense him, he’s near, he’s –” She cuts herself off abruptly with a harsh inhale. Rey does not say what causes her reaction, but she does not need to. Ahsoka feels him.

His Force signature, the one she once knew so well, now tainted with darkness and cruelty, sinks down into her bones. He enters the hangar and blocks a shot from Han with nothing more than his hand. He strikes down a nearby stormtrooper before turning to face her. His breathing is so loud, harsh. It sounds exactly as she remembers, just as it sounds in her nightmares.

“Ahsoka,” He says. If he is as overwhelmed as she is his voice does not give it away.

Blinding, white-hot anger fills her veins at the sound of her name. That voice, it is not her master’s, it is wrong, horrible, vile, cruel, all of things she’d never believed him to be, all of things he had become. She’s not seen him since Malachor, if she had, she’s certain that one of them would not be here any longer. The yearning, the _need_ , to avenge the memory of her master still sings in her blood.

“ _You_ ,” She growls.

Her lightsabers, both of which had already been ignited and had been held before and behind her in a defensive pose, are over her head before she can process it and she is leaping, striking. Vader blocks her blow with an easy parry, throwing her off and back towards the ground where she catches herself on her feet, sliding around to face him again, her eyes burning.

“Ahsoka?” That voice, it’s Luke’s. He pokes his head around from behind Vader’s shadowy form. Her heart leaps quickly from anger to joy to panic.

“Get away from him, Luke!” She cries at the same time that Vader commands, “Stay away from her.”

Ahsoka laughs, a hard, angry sound that hurts her throat. “As if _I’m_ the dangerous one?” She rounds on him again, her blades moving quickly, white against red as he dashes every attack off. “You _monster_!”

Each of Vader’s strikes are hard and heavy but Ahsoka is quicker and lighter than he is. Their duel continues amidst the red and green glare of the battle around them but neither manages to land a blow on the other.

“Stop!” A voice cries, but Ahsoka is almost too lost to recognize it.

“You can’t have them.” Ahsoka’s right blade blocks Vader’s next attack. She tries to quickly cut at him with her left, but he manages to push her back just in time. “I won’t let you. I’ll never let you destroy them as you did my master.”

“They are _my_ children. None shall keep them from me.” Ahsoka lunges but Vader catches her, their blades locking, white spitting against red. “Least of all you.” She is so close that she can feel the words reverberate through the air in front of her.

“Stop!” Another voice, this one distinctly deeper than the last. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Stop!”

“They are the children of Anakin Skywalker!” She shouts into the mask, that cold, emotionless void gazes back. “You lost all claim to them when you betrayed everything you once stood for.” She pushes back against him with the Force. Vader does not move but she does, skidding backwards, her heels digging into the solid floor below to slow herself. “The Jedi. The Republic. Justice.” She punctuates every word with a grief-stricken swing of her blades. “ _Goodness_! You were good once, kind! Now look at what you’ve become!”

“Stop it! Please, listen to me!”

“You know nothing of what I have had to become.” Vader responds. He does not strike and Ahsoka does not notice.

“ _I know enough_.”

“Stop! Ahsoka, Father, stop – Ah!”

A scream of pain puts a stop to the ill-timed duel. Both Vader and Ahsoka turn to see Luke doubled over, hand clutching his abdomen, a bit of red blooming on his jacket. He struggles to stay upright, the hand not fisted in the stain on his white top still holding his saber aloft. He pushes back against a few incoming stormtroopers with the Force, sending them flying.

“Luke!” Rey cries from somewhere beyond Ahsoka’s quickly narrowing focus.

“M’fine.” He calls back a bit weakly. He stands up a bit straighter but his face is already paling a bit.

Ahsoka rushes to his side but Vader gets there before she does, having been closer in the first place. He scoops Luke up easily, holding him carefully while simultaneously blocking blaster bolts with the blade of his lightsaber.

The action, a father protecting his son, should not be surprising. It would not be for most beings, but Vader is not most beings. For Vader it should be ridiculous, impossible. A dark lord of the Sith cares for no one but themselves, it’s almost a rule. Hadn’t he told her as much himself in a different time when he went by a different name? It is almost surprising how unsurprising Ahsoka finds it. It is so very like Anakin to break every rule there is for those he cares about.

* * *

Ben can see Rey’s outline amidst the chaos, can sense her nearness, and when he looks at her he knows that he catches her eyes with his own. There’s a general question sent along the bond, _safe_? He pushes an affirmative answer her way but there’s not really time for much else.

“Han!” He calls out across the hangar. “Chewie, start the ship, get her ready for take-off! And you,” He points at his grandfather. “Get him aboard.”

“You believe that we should escape here on that piece of junk? I am surprised that it can fly at all.”

“Oh, she flies!” Han cries, hot anger tinting his tone.

“Han, just get the ship ready.” Ben commands with an exasperated sigh before rounding on his grandfather once more. “You won’t get on the _Falcon_? What are you going to take, then? Your shuttle?” He points the tip of his weapon’s blade towards the _Lambda_ -class shuttle which even he can tell is wrecked. _“_ Get. Him. Aboard.”

“Do not presume to give orders to me.” Vader replies bluntly. Ben audibly growls. “And I will not be so foolish as to put myself at the mercy of the enemy.”

“Luke is injured. He needs medical attention. You are the one you said that _we_ need to escape, that _we_ don’t have any time to waste, isn’t that right?” He raises his eyebrows in question.

“You do not command me; you are not my master.” Vader snaps.

“No, you have no master, remember?” Ben watches his grandfather tense as his words land, their impact heavy.

Vader may not be trustworthy but if he has truly betrayed his master, and Ben had felt no deception in that earlier declaration, then that is… something. Ben no longer idolizes his grandfather, far from it, really, but he does feel something, a sort of kinship from a different angle – commiseration, maybe, or recognition. Understanding of what it is like to have a cruel master who would see everything you care about destroyed to only press you further under their thumb, who reveled in seeing how much they could take, how much you could bear before cracking in half.

“This is not a power play. We need to get out of here. You know this. The _Falcon_ is our best option because Leia and I sure as hell aren’t getting on any other ship today. You have a choice to make, and for once you need to break _our_ curse,” he gestures between the two of them with one finger, “and make the right one.”

The moment that passes, one no longer than a beat, does not do so in silence. The air in the hangar is filled with bright lights, blaster fire and lightsabers. It smells like ozone and death and blood. There’s anger and fear and worry and Ben’s not sure which emotion belongs to who. The moment ends when Vader turns and pounds up the ramp of the _Falcon_ , carrying his son in his arms.

The deep sigh that flows from Ben is one of both shock and relief as he’d had no idea if his _rousing_ speech would work or not. His mother rushes up beside him and he places a hand on her back, encouraging her forward towards the ship. He can feel her glare.

“Why did you do that?” She hisses. “I don’t want him on the same ship as us – I don’t want him in the same _system_ as us.”

“Listen, I know you think this is a bad idea, and maybe it is, but we don’t really…”

“Don’t tell me that we didn’t have another option.” She says firmly. Ben punches the switch next to the entry ramp, closing it. The engines are already humming anxiously around him. “Between you, Ahsoka, Rey, and – and me, we could have taken him. There’s always another option.”

Ben frowns and pulls Leia aside, grasping her shoulders with both hands. He looks at her intently, or as intently as he is able. He can just see her face past the blur in his vision, her eyes wide and confused. The ship rumbles as it takes off, the floor tilting beneath their feet.

“Leia,” he is surprised by the graveness of his own tone. “I know you don’t think of him this way, you never have, maybe you never will, but he is your father.” She flinches but Ben holds her steady. She needs to hear this, or maybe he needs to say it. “I don’t say that to upset you. I know what he’s done, trust me, I know, but you can’t – there are things you can never take back. Mistakes that can never be unmade.”

Leia stiffens and pulls away. He feels fear. It steals the breath from his mother’s lungs and emanates from her like heat from a star. Fear, sorrow, confusion, denial. She wraps her arms around herself, holding on tight as though she is afraid she may come apart. She takes one staggered step backwards then another and nods once before fleeing to some other part of the ship.

Ben is left shaken by the interaction but commotion in the other room leaves no time to stand around worrying about what his mother might or might not know, what that gleam of cold understanding in her eyes might have been.

“You are only injuring him further!” His grandfather’s voice echoes around the halls of the _Falcon_. “Step away, or I shall –”

“Don’t even think about it.” Ahsoka’s voice warns, the low, distinctive hum of a lightsaber punctuating her statement.

“Hey!” Han’s voice calls from the corridor leading to the cockpit. “I hear you all fighting on my ship I will _personally_ throw you out of the airlock!”

Luke is sprawled out along the single berth in the ship’s lounge. The bunks in the crew cabins would be easier access for those trying to tend to him but that room is fairly cramped and considering the audience the lounge is certainly the best option. His jacket is opened and the bloodied undershirt peeled up. Rey kneels bedside the bed, a bacta patch tumbling out of her shaking hands.

“Do not use that.” Vader commands as Rey reaches down to pick up the fallen patch. “This ship is filthy.”

“She is trying to _help_.” Ben growls. “Get away from her.” He adds in warning to his grandfather who is hovering a little too close for Ben’s comfort.

“Heal him.” Vader orders without taking even a step away. “You and your partner.”

“Don’t order him around.” Ahsoka warns. Ben notices that her lightsabers are not lit but she is holding a hilt in each hand, ready if needed. She’d done the same when she and Ben had met back on Dagobah. She casts a worried look in Luke’s direction. He appears to be unconscious now, though whether that is due to his injuries or his father’s intervention via the Force it is unclear.

“We have bacta patches.” Ben protests.

“Ben,” Rey says softly, the sullied patch clutched in both hands. The look she gives tells him that the wound if far too nasty for bacta patches to heal alone.

Ben sighs and nods. He skirts the holotable and kneels on the bench beneath Luke’s bedside. He wraps an arm around Rey and pulls her into him, unable to help himself. It feels like he saw her only hours ago, but for her it’s been days. Her shoulders relax under his embrace.

“I thought I lost you.” She whispers hoarsely, both of her arms circling his waist.

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.” He chuckles softly in her ear before kissing her temple chastely.

“We should help him, Ben.” She says, taking his hand in her own. “It’s pretty bad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees grimly.

The wound in his uncle’s stomach is an ugly thing, deep and not completely cauterized allowing it to bleed severely. Ben’s not a medic or a doctor, far from it, but even he can see that this is serious, possibly fatal. A bacta patch would be useless here, nearly as useless as Vader.

The Dark Side offers some form of healing, but it is vastly inferior to its Light Side counterpart. It is weak and usually temporary as the anguish and pain required to sustain it tends to fade _due_ to the healing, a bit of a self-defeating cycle, which is why Ben had never truly bothered with it. The Dark Side can also only heal the self, never others. That would be completely antithetical to everything teaches to be important. The Dark takes, the Light gives. Vader can do nothing for his son at this moment, no way he can help other than ordering others to do it for him. It must make him feel rather helpless, Ben realizes.

Ben takes Rey’s hand and places it atop Luke’s abdomen, laying his own overtop of that. Neither of them have ever healed anyone before on purpose, but Ben remembers the theory and Rey remembers the action, so he is certain that together they can work it out.

Something warm pulls from inside of Ben, from his chest. It runs along his veins, up his arms, and out through the tips of his fingers. He is left feeling slightly colder than before and a little lightheaded, like he’s dehydrated. The skin of Luke’s stomach grows less irritated and begins to knit back together quickly thanks to Ben and Rey’s combined efforts.

Vader does not thank them, but Ben hadn’t expected such pleasantries from his grandfather. Instead, Vader takes a step forward. Ben grabs Rey and pulls the both of them out of the way, rounding the room to meet up with Ahsoka who stands transfixed watching her former master watch over his son. Vader reaches out a tentative hand and lets it rest reverently just above a still-sleeping Luke’s head, though he goes no further.

Ahsoka exhales quickly and the name that escapes her is so faint Ben almost doesn’t hear it at all. “ _Anakin_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🚨 Vader is on the _Millennium Falcon_ 🚨 
> 
> We have entered pure chaos territory. Anything could happen next! Maybe the galaxy will implode? That's my guess. The universe never intended for all of these characters to be in the same place at once. They were separated for a reason. What have I done? I was so preoccupied with whether I _could_ I never stopped to think if I _should_.
> 
> I think that Vader and Ahsoka's reunion went a lot better than on Malachor, don't you? Sure, they tried to kill each other a little bit, but that's only natural, and they stopped when they realized that Baby Skywalker was hurt.
> 
> Thank you as always for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments. I am forever blown away by the positive response to this fic and hearing what you think always makes my day! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕+


	41. Emergency Family Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I will not relinquish my weapon nor will I throw myself into the hands of those terrorists.” Vader protests. “I know you think me to be a fool, but –”
> 
> “Enough!” Han roars. He whips the ship around and points it directly at the planet, dipping and diving around enemy and friendly fire alike. He recognizes the sound of commotion behind him but pays it no mind.
> 
> “Han,” Leia’s face is directly beside his, her eyes screaming her rage, her mouth set in a tight line. “Where are you taking us?” 
> 
> \---
> 
> The Skywalkers and friends have an emergency family meeting regarding their current 'running from a Sith Lord' status. Fire, meet gasoline.

Han grips the steering component of the _Falcon_ probably a little too tightly. There’s shouting in the other room, and the tell-tale angry hum of one of those damn laser swords. Han honestly never thinks much about how powerful the people he’s surrounded himself with are. The Force still feels a little bit like a fairy tale to him even if he knows that it’s not. He’s seen these people lift rocks bigger than he is – bigger than Chewie, Ben’s stopped blaster bolts in midair, and the way they jump… these idiots could rip his ship apart if they wanted to, could send the lot of them hurtling into the cold void outside without breaking a sweat. Wouldn’t bother them. They can probably all survive in open space for all he knows.

“ _Hey_!” He calls out. “I hear you all fighting on my ship I will _personally_ throw you out of the airlock!” He’s not sure how, exactly, he intends to keep that promise, but he sure as hell means it.

He cranes his neck around at the sound of shuffling behind him, ready for a fight if needed, but his mouth clamps shut when he sees Leia hovering awkwardly inside of the cockpit’s threshold. Her face flushes a bright red when he spies her, knowing she’s been caught. Han opens his mouth to say something, but what? He swirls his seat around, he needs to pay attention to flying after all. He doesn’t hear her leave – and he is listening very closely.

“How’re –” He coughs, his throat suddenly too dry. He feels his face heat up. What is _wrong_ with him? He’s not some gangly teenager anymore. He shouldn’t be so kriffing bashful around a girl, even if he did find out just the other day that she is his future wife and the mother of his child. “You’re alright?” He manages to force out eventually.

“Yes, I’m… physically I’m fine, yes.” She answers quietly. “Very tired.” He can’t see her face but he can hear her exhaustion, can imagine the dark circles lining her eyes.

“Good,” Han coughs again. He needs something to drink, some water or maybe something a little stronger – hell, this whole ‘future kid’ thing is going to turn him into a lousy drunk like his old man if he’s not careful. “I’m glad – and the kid – _Luke_?” He adds quickly, lest she get the wrong idea and think he is asking about _their_ kid.

Should he ask about Ben? Where did the big guy run off to anyway? Is he alright? He’d seemed well enough, but Han hadn’t been able to pay too much attention to anything but dodging incoming fire and avoiding an untimely death. He should check on him, right? That’s what a father should do, right? He doesn’t mean to groan audibly, but he does.

Han is actually glad for the TIEs swarming the _Falcon_. A more welcome distraction he’s never seen.

“Oh, Artoo – what were you thinking, running off like that?” The tinny whine of that damned protocol droid grates against Han’s ears. “Do you know the trouble I’ve had keeping this lot in line? Well, let me tell you –” Thankfully, the droids pass by the cockpit on their way to wherever it is on the ship they are headed.

“He’s – I’m not sure. I didn’t want to… Did you all arrive on _Home One_?” Leia asks. She sounds a bit closer now. Han thinks that she’s standing right behind him.

“Uh, yeah.” He responds, diving out of the way of a TIE’s green fire. “It’s uh – around here somewhere.” The gigantic Mon Calamari cruiser isn’t visible in his viewport, but surely it’s still in the system.

“We should head back there then.” She says.

“You sure that’s a good idea, Pri – Leia?” She doesn’t like it when he calls her ‘Princess’. Well, sometimes she does, or she seems to, but he’d rather not test his luck. He doesn’t have the energy for that right now. “Not sure we can just walk on board with our current… _guest_.”

“He would be a very valuable prisoner for the rebellion,” Leia muses quietly.

Chewie grunts a laugh and mutters sarcastically how easily contained their prisoner would be as well.

“Sure that would go over great with him.” Han agrees.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t care.” Leia sniffs dismissively. “It’s certainly a much more complicated situation than I would have liked, but – can I comm my father?” She peaks her head around the pilot’s seat, her eyes large and beseeching. “Please?” She adds for good measure.

“’Course.” Han grunts, swallowing over the lump in his throat. As if he could say ‘ _no_ ’ to her when she looks at him like that. “Probably a good idea anyway, see what all of them up in command want to do with the, uh, the _situation_.”

Leia leans across the console to grab the transceiver for the short-wave radio in the exact same moment that Han is forced to pitch the _Falcon_ hard to the left nearly sending her tumbling into his lap – nearly. Leia takes a moment to right herself and grips Han’s shoulder, using him as an anchor. The blush on her cheeks deepening impossibly further. She really is very pretty – beautiful.

“ _Bail Organa_ ,” The voice that rings through the cabin is tinny and crackling with static, but also very distinctly that of Leia’s father. “ _Solo, is this you_?”

“Father?”

There’s a momentary pause, one that lasts just long enough that Han worries the connection has cut out. The damn comm must be on the fritz again, and there’s really nothing he can do about that right now because he’s got that wired up to a computer panel back in the second hold. Chewie had said that’d been a horrible idea, but it actually makes sense because…

“ _Leia_?” Bail gasps on the other end of the line. “ _Leia, oh my – thank the Force_! _Are you alright, are you safe_? _Leia, I_ –”

“Yes, Father, I’m alright.” Leia sniffles. Han pretends that he doesn’t see her wiping tears from her cheeks out of the corner of his eye. He’s got a battle to pay attention to anyway. “We’re all alright, or, well, Luke was injured, but I think he’s – Father, I need to tell you something, I’m not sure how to…”

“ _Bail Organa_!” The booming voice of Vader is so loud, so angry, Han’s certain it actually rattles his bones. He grips the ship’s yoke even more tightly. “You treacherous, vile excuse for a being! You steal my child, keep her from me, indoctrinate her with your treasonous beliefs. I will destroy you. I will have my –”

“Stop!” Leia cries, whirling around, the hand not clutching the transceiver fisted in a tight ball by her side. “Don’t you dare – Don’t you _ever_ speak to him like that, or I’ll –”

“ _Leia_?” Bail sounds shaken. “ _Leia, what is going on_? _Is that… is it…_ ”

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?” Ahsoka’s voice asks from somewhere behind Han. “You can’t just wander around the ship.”

“Father, I’m sorry,” Leia whispers. A burst of icy air fills the room and Han shivers. “I’m alright. I’ll explain everything later, I promise.” She thumbs a button on the side of the transceiver ending the comm.

“Set a course for Mustafar.” Vader commands. Han knows that he’s speaking directly to him. He should probably be scared, but he’s more irritated than anything else. Chewie growls a low warning at Vader’s order, but it goes ignored. “Co-ordinates –”

“Absolutely not! We will rendezvous with the Rebel Alliance!” Leia snaps.

“I told you to give me your lightsaber!” Ben’s voice now. Han’s not sure if everyone can even fit in the cockpit at this point. He can feel the walls pressing in, intensifying the low throbbing pain in his temples.

“I will not relinquish my weapon nor will I throw myself into the hands of those terrorists.” Vader protests. “I know you think me to be a fool, but –”

“Enough!” Han roars. He whips the ship around and points it directly at the planet, dipping and diving around enemy and friendly fire alike. He recognizes the sound of commotion behind him but pays it no mind.

“Han,” Leia’s face is directly beside his, her eyes screaming her rage, her mouth set in a tight line. “Where are you taking us?”

“We’re not going to Mustafar. We’re not going to the rebellion.” Leia seethes at that, but Han ignores her, ignores all of them. “This is _my_ ship – I don’t take too kindly to being ordered around on it.” Han says, offering no other answers.

“You believe I care who this flying piece of scrap metal belongs to?” Vader fumes.

“Listen,” He leans forward a little as the ship burns through layer after layer of Corustcanti atmosphere. “I don’t know much about… _diplomacy_ or _war games_ , but I do know that when you’ve got folks from warring gangs and they need to talk something out, they meet at a neutral location.”

Despite the battle going on above, the air traffic on Coruscant is as thick as Han remembers. He hasn’t been to Imperial City in quiet a few years – there are a few folks here he’s rather less friendly with than he would like – even so, he knows a few hidey-holes, safe places to dock the _Falcon_ and lie low.

He was once told that you should only break one law at a time, and while that is certainly not a rule he has ever followed religiously, the advice is sound, especially when one of the laws you’re breaking includes the smuggling of the Emperor’s former right-hand. He follows the flow of traffic as best he can as he swiftly makes his way into the belly of the city. Sunlight disappears the further they descend, replaced with artificial electric yellow, blue, purple, pink, and green.

He finds the break in the city walls without issue. “ _Right where I left it_ ,” he mutters under his breath to no one but himself. It’s not quite an alley and not quite a garage, but something in-between. It’s abandoned though, and that’s the most important thing for his purposes. He leans back again once the ship has landed, feeling _very_ satisfied with himself. “A neutral location.” He turns to face his slack-jawed audience. “Now, all of you, get the hell out of my cockpit.”

* * *

Luke wakes to angry shouting, his sleep-clouded brain unable to understand much of anything other than the sound. His eyes flutter open and it becomes immediately clear that he is no longer aboard his father’s star destroyer. The low ceiling of the berth in the _Falcon_ ’s lounge stares back at him. Wires hang from a missing panel, one of them sparking menacingly.

How had he gotten here? He’d been shot, right? He remembers that, even if a little hazily. His hand lifts to his abdomen almost out of instinct, a primal need to inspect his wound. He braces himself for the pain sure to follow, but none does. He’s not in any kind of pain at all, save for the crick in his neck from lying on the uncomfortable bunk for too long. He feels as well as he ever has.

Is he dead? Surely there would be less screaming-matches in death, right? Luke’s head lolls towards the sound and the sight that greets him makes him glad that he’d already been lying down. Han, Chewie, Leia, Ben, and Rey are gathered on one end of the lounge, all five of them standing behind Ahsoka who is staring down - Luke’s father?

“We could keep him in one of the holds until we figure out what to do with him.” Ahsoka suggests, looking at Luke’s father but clearly talking to the others.

“Any attempt to hold me prisoner would be pitiful.” Luke’s father says. “Who would be my guard - you? _Him_?” He points to Ben who glowers in response. “The pilot, perhaps?”

“You can’t just walk around. I don’t trust you.”

“Trust me? I am not the one who attacked you unprovoked.”

“Unprov -” Ahsoka’s eyes widen in rage and her fists tighten around the lightsaber hilts in her hands. “Did the Dark Side rattle your brain?” She seethes. “ _Unprovoked_? You tried to kill me the last time I saw you.”

“I do not see how that is relevant.” Luke’s father pauses. “How _did_ you survive on Malachor?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Ahsoka sneers.

“Yes, I would.” Luke’s father replies simply.

“Listen,” Ben interrupts, one arm wrapped around Rey from behind, the other held out, entreating peace between the two arguing. “I appreciate that tensions are high, but we need to figure out what we are going to do. Han,” he looks over to the pilot and quickly looks away when their eyes meet. “The idea of ‘neutral ground’ is… not a terrible one, but the longer we stay in this system the more danger we are in. If he has truly betrayed his master,” he gestures loosely towards Luke’s father with his extended hand, “Sidious will be looking for him - for all of us, more likely.”

“Yes,” Luke’s father agrees emphatically. “My grandson, at least, sees sense.”

Han and Leia look at each other in the same instant, their eyes wide, worried, searching.

“Do you know?” Leia asks.

Han responds to her question with questions of his own. “Do I… Do _you_ know?”

“I know. What do you know?”

“You both know,” Rey sighs.

Luke blinks rapidly and his mouth falls open. For a moment, perhaps only a split second, his mind is like an un-tuned comm station, full of static and a quiet, high-pitched whine. He laughs as he sits up, though he’s not quite sure where his amusement comes from. All eyes turn to him but he’s too confused to be made uncomfortable by the attention.

“I’m sorry, what are any of you talking about?” He asks as he slides down onto the bench below the berth. No one answers him.

“Wait,” Han turns to Rey, his eyes sparkling with newfound amusement. “He doesn’t know?” He taps the knuckles of one hand on Chewie’s chest and turns to look up at the Wookiee. “I’m not the last to know!”

“The last to know what?” The ringing in Luke’s head grows louder.

Ben rubs at his temple and closes his eyes. He sighs deeply before speaking. “Rey and I are from the future.” He says. Luke sits up straighter. _Poor Ben,_ he thinks, _he’s lost his mind._ It must be a side-effect of the freezing. Only, no one else looks at him like what he’s said is the craziest thing they’ve ever heard. They look shocked, but at _Luke_ , not Ben.

“You’re joking, right?” Ben only shakes his head ‘no’ in response.

“It’s true, Luke.” Rey says with an apologetic shrug.

“No, because that’s no - you can’t - _Father_?” Luke voice is practically a squeak by the end. He turns to his father, the mask of his helmet as inscrutable as ever. Surely, _he_ will put an end to this weird joke.

“It is true.” His father admits.

“But… but you…” He points from his father to Ben and back again. “You called him…” He inhales sharply. Wide eyes searching Ben’s face – for what? He’s not sure. Recognition, familiar features, a glimpse into the future. “Are you my son?”

“ _Force_ no.” Ben sniffs, his nose scrunching in what looks a little bot too much like disgust for Luke’s comfort.

“He’s ours, Han’s and mine.” Leia says, tilting her head towards the man in question.

“ _What_?” Luke gasps, this news shocking him nearly as much as anything else. “I thought you two hated each other?” He’s grossly misjudged their relationship.

He presses himself into the back of the bench. The springs beneath the leather and worn stuffing creak and groan in protest, one pushes back, digging into Luke’s spine. His head is spinning, maybe the ship is, the galaxy. He’s going to faint. He’s going to be sick.

“You all knew? This whole time?”

“I only just found out a few days ago myself.” Han says, hands splayed out in front of him. Leia nods beside him as if to say the same is true for her.

“Father? You knew and you never said anything!” Luke accuses breathily, running a hand through his hair.

“It did not come up.” Is his father’s only response.

Luke laughs and slumps forward in the seat, his mind cracked right in half. He grips his hair, using it as an anchor. If he couldn’t feel the sting on his scalp from pulling at the roots, he would think he was asleep, stuck in a dream, maybe a nightmare. He should think they’re lying, all of them – as improbable as that might be – but he knows, somehow, deep in his gut, that they’re not. Maybe that’s the worst part.

* * *

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Ben glances offhandedly at his uncle who gasps and gulps for air like a dying fish, but doesn’t seem to have any more outbursts lying in wait. “And we’re all on the same page – we need to talk next steps.”

He eyes Vader almost involuntarily. His grandfather darkens the far corner of the lounge, the sight more ridiculous than anything Ben has ever imagined. He waits for the insistence he knows is coming.

“Mustafar,” Vader says as if fulfilling a prophecy of Ben’s own design. That stupid, blasted fortress. Can’t his grandfather think of nothing else?

“You truly believe Mustafar to be that defensible?” Ben sighs.

“Yes,” Vader answers without hesitation, without thinking, likely. “That fortress has held off entire armies.”

“Armies of Mustafarians, not an entire Empire.” Ben rubs his temple with his free hand, the one not wrapped around Rey’s waist. The sharp stab of his family-induced migraine throbbing in his skull. “You don’t have a navy any longer, just us – and only for now.”

“Do not worry, I have no illusions about our current situation and am well aware of your refusal to join me. You’ve reclaimed the Light, and what a _boon_ for the Jedi that must be.”

Ben bites back a retort. He does not have time to get into a screaming match with his grandfather. If Sidious is anything like Snoke, and from what Ben has read, he’s much worse, he’s already on the move. He’ll be well aware that they have not left the planet. He’ll be planning. That is a bad thing for them all.

“He’s impossible,” He mumbles dejectedly in Rey’s ear.

“You’re all a little bit impossible.” She punctuates the sentence by pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning back around and facing the group. “Okay, let’s just say Mustafar is on the table. It’s an option.”

“I will not go to his fortress,” Ben’s mother protests firmly. “I don’t particularly care about how defensible it is. We need to return to the Rebel Alliance.”

“Okay,” Rey keeps her tone light and agreeable. Ben alone can feel the rough grate of her frustration along the bond. “The Rebel Alliance is another option. I think –”

“It is not.” Vader says with finality. “No, I believe my grandson has made a good point,” he adds as though it is something he loathes admitting. “Sidious’ knowledge of the Dark Side surpasses even my own,” Ben only barely hears Ashoka mutter ‘ _even my own_ ’ under her breath, the repetition followed by a small mocking laugh. If Vader hears he does not comment. “And his reach is vast. There is no hiding from him, not truly. Nowhere in the galaxy will be safe so long as he lives.”

“Are you suggesting that we kill him?” Ahsoka asks carefully.

“Yes,” Vader responds quickly. “There is no running from Sidious, not truly.”

Ben finds himself nodding unconsciously. Snoke had been much the same. There’s really no way to run from something that lives inside of your mind. Is that the kind of relationship Vader and his master have? Can his grandfather feel the Sith clawing at the walls erected around his mind, angry and desperate for entry? Ben resists coiling in on himself as the memory of his own master dipping in and out of every thought resurfaces, coiling through his head like a phantom.

“So we’re going to kill the Emperor now?” Han asks with shocked amusement. “That’s treason, right? Just wanna keep track of all the crimes I’m committing.”

“Only if we fail.” Vader’s words, while heavy with implication, are the verbal equivalent of a shrug. “Taking into account your activities for the past few years, I would have thought you used to treasonous acts by now.” Vader remarks dryly.

“All of that was… light treason at _most_.” Han responds with a vague shake of his head. “This is assassination. It’s different.”

“And do you have a plan for this assassination?” Ben asks, certain he already knows the answer – _no_. “Or were you planning on walking through the front door of the palace and just hacking at anything that moves?”

“Obviously not.” His grandfather replies humorlessly. “I find your lack of confidence surprising. Especially after how readily you bragged about killing your own master.”

Ben does not miss the way his parents look at him after Vader’s remark, their faces a mix of confusion and grim concern. He does not comment on it, certain that he is not quite ready to have the ‘Snoke’ talk with his parents. How much should he say? How much can he say? Even if he wanted to go out and find Snoke now, save himself or whatever version of himself this reality belongs to from that vile creature’s torture, he doesn’t know where to find him. He knows little to nothing about Snoke’s past, his history, where he would have been or might have been doing before the fall of the Empire.

“Yes, well, it’s not as if I betrayed him and then came back later to finish the job.”

“How, then, did you do it?” Vader nods impatiently when Ben does not speak. “Go on,” He prompts. “Enlighten us all.”

“It’s not something we can replicate here.” Ben sputters. “It was a split-second decision.”

Rey turns around in his arms, eyebrows rising to nearly meet her hairline. “Split-second?” Ben blinks back at her dumbly before realizing his mistake.

“Not _that_ split-second,” His ears are burning. He searches for an explanation, but nothing comes, his mind blanking out. “I just - it wasn’t something I had _planned_ – you know, before hand, but I -” He hadn’t planned much of anything, really. He knew the moment Rey landed on the _Supremacy_ that they would kill Snoke together, he’d seen that much, after all, but it wasn’t until Snoke had hurt her, had ripped into her mind with the vicious ferocity that only he possessed that Ben had decided it would happen then, that day, on that ship. “I don’t think that this is relevant to the situation at hand.”

“Of course we will not simply ‘walk in through the front door’, as you put it.” Only the lightened edges of Vader’s presence in the Force betray how amusing he finds Ben’s embarrassment. “If this is something we do and plan to survive, we must take Sidious by surprise - a task that may very well be impossible.”

“Encouraging,” Ahsoka mutters.

“There are tunnels, ones that weave throughout the underbelly of the city, leading everywhere - including the palace. I had most of them sealed off when Sidious rose to power, a security issue, though some I kept to myself and left open in case of emergencies.”

“Emergencies like assassinating the Emperor.” Han says with a sarcasm-laced shrug.

“Precisely.” Vader answers without an ounce of humor.

“Alright,” Rey begins slowly, cautiously, calmly, like she is speaking to a toddler on the verge of descending into a thunderous tantrum, “assuming this plan works, I –”

“This is not a plan,” Ahsoka scoffs. “It’s a route, at best, one that may of may not be safe.”

“I assume you have a better one, then?” Vader asks pointedly. The tension in the air grows ever thicker. It sits on Ben’s skin with a viscous, awful energy. “I do not seem to recall all of your plans in the past being fool-proof. Despite what you might wish, I do remember –”

“Don’t you _dare_ bring up what I think you’re going to, because that wasn’t my fault, and you know it!” Ahsoka snaps.

“Assuming it works,” Rey continues, a bit more forcefully, “do we actually stand a chance against the Emperor?”

“Father,” Luke pipes up, finally having found his voice again. “You said I wasn’t ready.”

“And you are not.” Vader agrees. “You and your sister will stay here, in the company of Tano. The dyad and I will face Sidious.”

The lounge explodes into uproarious dissent. Shouts of ‘ _no_ ’ and ‘ _father_ ’ and ‘ _absolutely not_ ’, ring out in a cacophonous storm of sound. Ben can barely register which words belong to who, much less what he, himself, is shouting.

In his mind, he knows that what his grandfather has suggested is the best possible plan. Vader is not strong enough to face Sidious on his own, but, perhaps with the power of Ben and Rey’s bond they might stand a chance. The idea is a logical one, strategically speaking, and leaving Ahsoka behind will ensure that his parents and Luke remain safe should anyone be sent after them. It is rational, reasonable, a sound idea. He recognizes that, but the thought of Rey facing Darth Sidious, arguably the most dangerous Sith in history, the idea of placing her in that kind of peril, it tightens his chest uncomfortably.

“You think I’m going to let you leave with them, _alone_? I was right before,” Ahsoka laughs manically in disbelief. “The Dark Side truly has rattled around whatever brains are left inside of that _thick skull of yours An_ –”

“Watch what you say.” Vader warns lowly, standing up impossibly taller than before, somehow, the shadows around him darkening with his rage. “Taking care with your words was never one of your strong suits, but I suggest you start trying.”

“I’m not letting you leave with Ben.” His mother protests. “Not after what you’ve already done to him. I don’t trust you.”

“Neither do I,” Han agrees, one of his hands closing over Leia’s shoulder. She glances down at it for a moment in what might be surprise before returning her glare to Vader.

“I think he’s right.” Rey says. The air seems to still. “Luke and Leia aren’t ready for this, but maybe Ben and I – maybe this is what we are meant to do?”

Ben leans down, his brush the shell of Rey’s ear. “Rey, what are you talking about? Meant to do what?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Rey’s shoulders tighten at Vader’s words of concurrence. “I have suspected for some time that there is a purpose for your arrival in the past, especially as it does not seem as though you are here of your own volition, not to mention the prophecy.”

“Prophecy?” Ben repeats. “What prophecy?”

“It does not matter.” His grandfather responds dismissively. “Those old Jedi divinations are nothing more than words and hot air, but it did make me start to consider your purpose here. There must be one, a reason for the Force to draw you from your own time into this one.”

“Have you considered there being no reason at all?” Ben asks dryly.

“The Force is often cruel, but never random.” Vader says with the confidence of someone with years of experience. “I am certain of there being a reason for your presence in this time, though considering what that reason might be is not currently my concern.”

“If this is what we’re doing, I’m going with you.” Ahsoka says. It sounds like a concession, like she is giving in to something.

“Who says this is what we’re doing?” Leia asks incredulously.

“You would leave my children here, alone?” Vader asks, the question directed at Ahsoka, ignoring Leia’s question entirely.

“Alone?” Han looks back at Chewie, eyebrows raised. “Sorry, buddy, looks like we don’t exist.”

“If only that were true.” Vader’s hand tightens by his side. “It is becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore your presence.”

“So sorry,” Han throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Should I go hide in the cargo hold? You know, you’ve got a funny way of showing gratitude to the guys who saved your skin,” and then, because, as it is becoming more and more clear to Ben, his father has a death wish, he adds with a smirk, “so to speak.”

“You are still alive, are you not? That is more than enough _gratitude_ in my eyes. I cannot believe that _you_ are the person my daughter chooses as a partner. A deserter, a smuggler, a –”

“Sorry I don’t live up to your lofty expectations!” Ben’s only relief is that his father’s lack of reverence does know some bounds as he doesn’t add a sarcastic ‘ _Dad_ ’ to the end.

Leia takes a step towards Vader, her shoulders tense and eyes screaming fire. “You have absolutely _no_ say in who I choose as a partner! The fact that you think you do just shows how deluded –”

Ben breathes heavily. The _Falcon_ ’s lounge is a powder keg and every member of his family is holding a lit match, all threatening to drop their own, sending them all sky high.

“ _Stop_!” He booms, his voice loud and deep, cutting through all other sound.

All eyes turn to Ben, and though they are silent, the tension between each and every person on the ship is pulled taught, a fraying thread ready to snap at one wrong word or movement. Slowly, Ben closes his eyes and exhales, drawing on every ounce of calm he has ever possessed to be the sorely needed voice of reason.

“This is getting us nowhere. _He’s_ ,” Ben gestures towards his grandfather with a limp wrist, “not wrong. Leaving here with Sidious alive is likely a mistake we can’t afford to make. Ahsoka’s not wrong either, we’ll need as many as we can get to take him down.”

“And what, the rest of us are expected to stay here and sit on our thumbs, waiting for you to return?” Leia asks with a glower.

“Or not return.” Luke offer grimly, his back hunched. Leia pales slightly but nods along anyway. “I should be there. _We_ ,” he looks at Leia, “should be there.”

“Luke, Leia,” Ahsoka turns to each of them in turn. “You simply don’t have enough training. And Chewie, Han, I’m sorry, but without the Force you don’t stand much of a chance at all. I have experience fighting Sith, and so does -” she looks back at Vader, lips pressed together in a thin line. “So does everyone else that’s going.”

“We don’t get a say at all?” Leia asks, sounding only the slightest bit desperate.

“This is not a democracy.” Vader says coolly.

“Of course it’s not.” Leia sneers.

“I don’t like this, for the record.” Han says with a frown.

“Duly noted.” Vader deadpans.

There’s a moment of silence that follows. No one seems entirely happy with the decision that’s been made, but there doesn’t seem to be much more to say on the subject, nothing that won’t have them all going around in circles, anyway. Ben clings to Rey and shifts uncomfortably in his still slightly damp clothing, cloth and drying carbonite sticking to his skin. He fights back against the fear mounting in his chest. Fear for Rey, for his family, even for himself because they’re going to face Darth Sidious and they’ll either kill him or die trying, there is no in-between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨We're back, baby!✨
> 
> Thanks to everyone for your patience during the break in posting! I'm going to start posting regularly again but will be updating the schedule to every other Sunday for the last few remaining chapters. I have a lot of what's to come already written but I want to give myself enough time between chapters to ensure they're not rushed and are of a quality I can be happy with!
> 
> This chapter was difficult to write but also really fun! There's a lot of moving parts at this point and a lot of characters with their own motivations and arcs, but while that can be challenging that's also part of the fun! I really hope you all liked this chapter and that it was worth the wait! 😂 I'm super happy to be posting again.
> 
> As always, I appreciate every single kudos, comment and bookmark so, so much. Let me know what you all thought, I love hearing from you! Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕


	42. The Naboo Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, I figure,” he looks off to the side, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, “figure we got a lot to talk about - you and I?” He says it like a question and in the relatively short time she’s known Han Solo she’s never seen him quite so nervous.
> 
> “I suppose.” Leia agrees limply.
> 
> \---
> 
> Enjoy a series of awkward conversations staring our favorite Skywalkers and a few of their friends!

Ben and Rey leave the lounge as though the decision they’ve made, without any input from Leia, she notes angrily, is final, as if there are no arguments left to be made at all. She stews for a moment, hands clenched into tight fists by her sides, angry retorts and protestations swirling around inside of her like wind in a storm.

“Don’t let them out of your sight for a moment,” She hears Ahsoka mutter in hushed tones to Chewbacca. The implication in the warning makes her blood boil. She is a well-respected member of the Rebel Alliance, a former senator, and a princess, yet Ahsoka sees her as no better than an errant youngling that must be watched with a keen eye. She storms out of the lounge. She already feels liable to combust and doesn’t need any more reason to.

“Leia,” a warm, calloused hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her to a stop in the hall. She rips herself from the loose grasp before even registering who the voice belongs to. Guilt pools in her stomach when she turns and sees the hurt in Han’s eyes. It’s only there for a moment, half of one perhaps, but it is unmistakable.

“Sorry, I didn’t -” She begins, but the apology sounds flat even to her own ears and she allows it to trail off, whatever she ‘ _didn’t’_ is lost to the ether.

“Don’t worry about it.” He offers a small half-smile. “So, I figure,” he looks off to the side, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, “figure we got a lot to talk about - you and I?” He says it like a question and in the relatively short time she’s known Han Solo she’s never seen him quite so nervous.

“I suppose.” Leia agrees limply.

“We don’t have to now, I guess, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Leia assures him. “We should probably get it all out now, be done with it sooner rather than later.” Leia realizes this is the wrong thing to say the moment the words leave her lips. Han gapes at her, surprised and a little hurt. “Sorry, I misspoke,” She assures him quickly. “I shouldn’t have said ‘be done with it’, like it’s - I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m not handling all of this very well.” She shivers as a cold breeze, the origin of which she cannot guess, slicks down her spine.

“Hey, you’re alright.” Han says. He reaches out for her and hesitates, as if thinking better of it for a moment, but eventually rubs his hands along her upper arms as she continues to shiver against the chill in the ship. “Handling it better than I did - you’re not even drunk off your rocker. You cold?”

“Yes, a little.” Leia nods, grateful for the warmth of his hands which he has yet to remove from her arms.

“I’ll check the air-con unit in a bit.” He promises, his smile this time a bit warmer. “You think Ben should, um, be a part of this conversation?”

Leia stills for a moment. The air around her seems to grow, somehow, cooler, but she doesn’t mention it. Instead, she nods, because he probably should be.

Ben. A complicated subject that she has no idea how to even begin wrapping her mind around. On the one hand, she feels an intense connection to him, his safety and security to her is a need like water or air, essential. He can be cold and stand-offish at times, but seems, in her opinion, generally good. He’s protected her, defended her from Vader, saved her life. On the other hand, she knows that he turns to the Dark Side, that he kills his father – the very man standing before her now.

Should she tell Han? Is that cruel? Is it the right thing to do? She doesn’t know. All decisions, like her emotions, slip from her grasp as easily as water.

They find Ben and Rey in the crew cabins, the former smoothing a clean shirt down his front with both hands before folding his old clothes, now crusted with drying carbonite, and placing them on the mattress of a berth.

“If I thought I could convince you to stay back, I would.” He admits lowly, throwing on a dark brown bantha-leather jacket.

“I know,” Rey says. “You’re not alone in that. I already lost you once, I - oh!” Rey’s eyes go wide when she sees Han and Leia in the doorway. “Hello.”

“I was hoping we could talk, the three of us.” Han says from behind Leia. He feels close and she is glad for it.

“Yeah, I guess we should.” The words escape Ben like the fight leaving someone who has met certain defeat. He collapses back onto the bunk behind him with a soft _thump_ , his shoulders hunched as if burdened by a heavy weight. Rey glances around the room and makes to leave but Ben stops her, catching her hand with his own. “I’d like Rey to stay.”

“Sure – of course,” Han agrees without hesitation. “She’s family after all.”

Rey beams unabashedly as she takes a seat beside lacing her fingers between Ben’s.

“Well, I guess more people on this ship are family than aren’t.” Han adds with a laugh. Leia turns back to face him, begging him with her eyes to ‘please be serious.’ She wonders if he understands. He nods as though he does, his mouth curving downward slightly in what might be acquiescence.

Ben clears his throat. “I assume we’re all on the same page now?” He cautions, looking up at them from where he sits. “Or close enough to it?”

“What? That the two of you are from the future and you’re our son?” Han asks with stomach-plummeting bluntness. “Unless there’s more to it that I’m missing, then yeah.”

“I mean, yes, that’s the basic – yes.”

“Okay,” Han breathes out slowly. He steps around Leia, pushing himself further into the room and leans against the wall beside her. Leia closes the door behind her back, allowing them at least a modicum of privacy on the small freighter. “Okay,” he repeats. He looks down at his hands, as if the right words to say might be tattooed onto the skin there. “You’re doing alright, kid?” Leia notes the muscle twitch under Ben’s left eye. It’s almost a wince.

“Yes, I’m –”

“He’s blind!” Leia exclaims, suddenly remembering Ben’s condition upon emerging from the frozen carbonite prison Vader had inflicted upon him, weak and blind, frightened but brave. She’s been so wrapped up in her own problems she’d nearly forgotten. She should have asked about how he was feeling, if he was alright, but she didn’t.

_Selfish_ , a voice, one so indistinct it could be her own errant thought, or a whisper caught on the wind, claws through her mind.

“I’m fine, really.” Ben assures her, assures them both. He rubs his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “It’s gotten much better.”

“Good, glad to hear it.” Han huffs a sigh, a deeply tired sound. Leia wonders what he’s been through since her capture. If he’s been sleeping well, or at all. It certainly doesn’t seem like it. “Listen, I don’t know any sort of gentle or polite way to ask this question, but – were we bad parents?”

Ben’s eyes go as wide as saucers and he blinks, the question clearly catching him off guard. “I – why do you ask?”

“ _Why do I ask_?” Han repeats with a dry, joyless laugh. “Because, _shit_ , you told me you wished that you never met us, for one.”

Someone gasps aloud and it takes Leia a moment to register that it had been her. Something inside of her cracks and breaks, fractures of pain splinter along her body and a hot tear slips down her cheek. “Ben, is that true?”

“I’m really not good with words,” he mutters down to the floor below his feet. “What I meant, and what I _said then_ , after, is that I don’t feel that way any longer. I was wrong.”

“No,” Han agrees stiffly. “Now you just think it would have been easier for us if we’d never met you – had you, I guess.”

“ _Ben_ ,” is all that Leia can manage. She wraps her arms around her body in an effort to keep herself from falling to pieces and to stave off the cold that surrounds her. It hardly does any good. She feels dipped in frost, frozen and ready to shatter.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Ben says. It sounds like an apology, almost, but it’s really not. “I shouldn’t have said a lot of things that I did. I was drinking. I wasn’t necessarily wrong…”

“Ben!” Rey cuts him off abruptly, leveling him with a hard stare. “That’s not helpful.”

“What would be helpful, Rey? Lying to them? I thought you didn’t want to do that anymore? I thought –” Ben stops himself this time, his tone a hair away from snapping. He looks angry, though it’s still a far cry from the rage Leia saw living on his face in her vison on Bespin. He closes his eyes and inhales, holding the breath for a beat before slowly releasing it through his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “This is – not easy for me. I truly should not have said any of that.”

“It’s not that you said it.” Leia says, her voice shaking much more than she would like. She wishes that she were calmer, or that she could fake it better. “It breaks my heart that you felt that way. That you ever did. That you might still, even now.”

A pained expression crosses Ben’s face before he buries it in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into his palms.

“I’m not upset with you.” Leia explains. “It just hurts – I don’t understand.”

“Which brings me back to my original question.” Han presses. “Were we bad parents? I’m not trying to – upset you or – or anyone. I just want…” Han pauses, his eyes screwed shut tight. He picks at a spot on his forehead with the blunt nail of his thumb absentmindedly. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes twice – _once_ , I guess, I don’t know. I want you to be… happy.”

“You weren’t _bad_ parents.” Ben says quietly, his gaze still downcast.

“But we weren’t good.”

Ben looks up at that, his brows drawn together in irritation. “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Han, please, let him speak.” Leia pleads.

“You weren’t bad parents,” Ben repeats, perhaps in an attempt to convince them. Leia hopes that it is not an attempt to convince himself. “You both – you were busy people. You had your own lives. I didn’t always necessarily feel like a part of them, I suppose.” He speaks slowly, his words stilted and uncomfortable, as though each of them is being pulled from him by force. Leia notices his grip on Rey’s hand tighten. “You said, before, that I looked like I was well fed and sheltered and educated, and I was. I was well provided for, certainly, but I was also very – _lonely._

“I was not an easy child though, by any means. I was temperamental, moody, and didn’t understand the Force which led to some – _dangerous_ situations.”

His words reek of old hurt, the kind that, if left alone, will fester and rot the heart. They strike Leia like a slap, each of them, stoking her own pain. It grows with every word, every breath, every moment. It feels as though there is no limit to it. “Ben, I’m so sorry.” How she had ever allowed him to feel this way, she doesn’t understand.

“Please don’t apologize.” He begs her, his dark eyes large and doleful. “ _Please_.”

“What do you mean, _busy lives_? What could we have been doing that –” _that was more important than our son_? Leia doesn’t finish. She can’t.

Ben shrugs heavily, as if weighed down. “Rebuilding the galaxy – it’s demanding work. I didn’t understand, then. I was always so – angry, hurt, and… scared. I didn’t understand why you had to leave all the time, or why I had to be sent away.”

“Sent away?” Han asks, seeming aghast. “Sent away where?”

“To train with Luke.” Ben supplies flatly. “He was rebuilding the Jedi. I was his first student. I was not… _happy_ about it, to say the least. I felt abandoned, like you simply couldn’t deal with me anymore, and it didn’t help that I –” He cuts himself off, his lips pressing together into a thin line. “I – it’s not all your faults.”

“How do you figure?” Han asks, his voice rough and slightly broken.

“I –” Ben snakes the fingers of one hand through the dark waves of his hair and grips them tightly. He squeezes his eyes closed and the muscles in his jaw tense and relax over and over. “My master had a very strong influence over my mind, even as a child – especially then, really. So many of my memories have been corrupted and twisted by his presence in my head. I’m only just beginning to untangle them. To say that the two of you were bad parents, it wouldn’t be… fair.” His back bows further. “I have done so many terrible things to the galaxy, to both of you. I don’t want to –”

“Ben, I don’t give a damn what you’ve done.” Han growls.

“Don’t say that.” Ben warns. “You don’t know –” he looks up, his eyes meeting Leia’s. They are like windows into his every emotion. Leia thinks that he doesn’t mean for them to be. They’re accidentally open, honest, and raw. She sees fear there, regret deeper than she can fathom, and curiosity. He’s searching her, studying her reaction to his words. She doesn’t know what he finds but his eyes drift back down to his boots and he sighs. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Why did you –” Leia begins before considering how to end her question. _Kill your father_? It’s all she can think of, the scene of his confession replaying behind her eyes on a loop, like a holovid she has no control of. “Turn to the Dark Side?” She manages eventually.

“That’s a complicated question.” Ben sighs. “I don’t – ah –” He starts and stops, chewing the inside of his cheek. “The Dark Side has always called to me. I can’t remember a time when I was without it. I suppose – I don’t really know how to describe it – it always felt like a doorway to me, I guess. One that was always open, waiting, inviting – inevitable. Some days it felt like I was fighting against nature or fate not to simply step through and start down the path that was waiting for me on the other side.

“The voice – my master – didn’t help with that, of course. Maybe he was the one who made it feel so destined? I’m not sure” he pauses for a moment, breathing in and exhaling slowly. “Finding out about Vader only cemented that idea, that I was built for the Dark, that it was in my blood. You’d hidden it from me, that he was my grandfather, and I felt that it was because you feared I was too much like him – or would be, could be.

“I’ve been torn between both the Light and the Dark for my entire life. The voice, it promised that if I only stopped fighting, I would finally find peace, and then –” he stops abruptly and shakes his head before continuing. “When I did finally step through that door, it slammed closed behind me, so to speak. I was trapped by a choice that I thought was liberating. I didn’t realize how imprisoned I was by that decision until much later, and by then it felt too late to go back.”

“Who is this – your _master,_ or whatever?” Han is breathing heavily, his hands balled into tight fists by his sides. “I’ll wring the bastard’s neck myself. Gift him a blaster bolt right between the eyes.”

“I’d like to see that.” Rey says lowly, wrapping an arm around Ben’s back and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Piece of space junk won’t know what hit ‘im.” Han growls.

The small, cramped cabin falls silent – terribly so. It’s the kind of quiet that comes from waiting for an answer you’re dreading. It’s anticipatory in the worst way and it spreads far too long.

“Snoke.” Rey answers when Ben doesn’t, shooting him a puzzled look bordering on irritation. “His name was Snoke – _is_ Snoke because he’d still be alive now, right?” She turns to Ben who shrugs noncommittally and her frown deepens. “ _Ben_ ,”

Ben’s nostrils flare and he narrows his eyes. “I am not – _protecting_ him.” He growls in defiance of an accusation that was never made – never made out loud, at least. Leia wonders if Ben can hear Rey in his mind as she can hear him. She wonders if that kind of thing goes both ways, if she could speak back if she tried.

“That’s not what I was saying.” Rey’s tone is firm but her eyes are soft. She tucks a bit of hair behind one of Ben’s ears. “You know that. I only meant that if we knew where to find him, that maybe…”

“I hardly think that sending my parents after him is the solution.” It takes a moment to click that Leia is one of the parents he is speaking of. She wonders when that might stop being strange. “In any case, I don’t know where he is. He’ll be on the Amaxine station twenty-eight years from now, but by that point it’s too late.” A muscle in Ben’s jaw twitches. “Snoke was my master, not my friend.” There’s a certain darkness to those words specifically and Leia wishes she understood. “I was not privy to that kind of information.”

“I’ll blow the damn station out of the sky if I have to.” Han mutters, rubbing his forehead.

“I appreciate the sentiment.” Ben intones, standing. “We can – we should go.” He offers a hand to Rey, but she remains seated. “We can finish this conversation later, we will – I promise.” He looks at Han and Leia each in turn. “We’ll have – a lot to talk about, I think, but we need to go.”

* * *

“I don’t like this, father.” Luke says quietly. Vader makes no move towards him, Ahsoka notes, instead maintaining his place in the farthest corner of the too-small room from where she stands. “I _hate_ this.” He corrects himself. “It feels wrong to stay here. As wrong as it felt when Mast-” Luke cuts himself off and looks at Ahsoka with wide eyes. She shakes her head frantically, warning off any mention of Master Yoda. Vader can _not_ know about that. “As when I was told that destroying you was my destiny,” he amends quickly.

“I understand,” Vader says and oddly, Ahsoka believes him. It is almost startling how softly he speaks with Luke, and even Leia when given the opportunity. There’s a gentleness that manages to break through the harsh and artificial confines of the vocoder in his mask and allows for a heart-breaking, if brief and likely unintentional, glimpse at the man beneath. “But you must stay here.”

“I thought this was what you were training me for?” Luke asks weakly.

“You are correct.” Vader agrees without excuse. “But, as I have already stated, you are not ready for such a test. I will not put you in danger unnecessarily.”

She wants to remark that this is likely the closest Luke will get to hearing Vader say that he was wrong about something, about anything. Even when he’d been Anakin, he’d had difficulty admitting to any kind of fault. She keeps her mouth closed instead. She recognizes that there’s no real need to antagonize Vader at _every_ turn, even though she finds that she wants to. Perhaps that’s a fault on her part?

He hasn’t been… overly violent or threatening since joining them aboard the ship. At least, it’s less than she has come to expect from a Sith. Still, he’s not the same person she saw on Malachor those years ago. He’s changed. The anger in him, the suffocating, icy hate that surrounds him, has lightened almost imperceptibly, though it is still very much present. He’s not Anakin, she doubts that Anakin is a person that can ever exist again in the capacity he once had, but he’s not _not_ Anakin – though, maybe she’s just overly hopeful.

_No one is too far gone_. Ben’s words rattle through her skull every time she looks at Vader. That was the lesson he wished he’d learned from his grandfather, that it was never too late to turn from the Darkness. She wants to believe him so badly, it hurts, the hope pierces her chest and she knows that it will bleed her dry if she lets it go unchecked. Hope is a powerful thing, but it can be blinding as much as enlightening.

Luke sits up a little straighter and picks at the blood staining his white undershirt. He lifts it and prods at his abdomen right where he’d been shot back on the star destroyer and frowns.

“Wasn’t I shot?” He asks, looking between Ahsoka and Vader. “What happened?”

“The dyad healed you.” Vader answers. Luke silently mouths the words ‘ _the dyad_ ’ in plain confusion.

“Ben and Rey,” Ahsoka provides.

“They healed me?” Luke looks down at the hand now splayed across his stomach. “I should thank them.” He pales a little. “They’re really from the future, aren’t they?”

“Afraid so,” Ahsoka agrees with a small, pitying smile.

Luke laughs and it sounds almost like a sigh, but it’s one of acceptance. “ _And_ Ben’s my nephew. I have a nephew.” He laughs again. “I didn’t even have a sister a few months ago.”

“That is not true.” Vader interrupts brusquely. “You have always had a sister. That the two of you were separated at all was a crime. One that shall not go -”

“You know what I mean.” Luke rolls his eyes.

Chewie returns a moment later and hands Luke a change of clean clothes. He explains that he couldn’t find any of Luke’s clothes aboard the ship, so the ones he’s been given are actually Han’s and might be slightly too large, but should fit well enough.

“Thanks, Chewie.” Luke smiles. He makes to leave the lounge but stops just in the mouth of the main corridor and turns to face Ahsoka. “I wanted to - I’m sorry for running off the way I did. I was kind of freaking out at the time and wasn’t thinking and - well, I’m sorry.”

“Nearly scared me half to death.” Ahsoka responds with a forgiving smile. “I’m just glad you’re alright Skyguy.”

She recognizes her mistake a fraction of a second too late, the word still on the tip of her tongue as she turns to stare at Vader wide-eyed. She’s not sure what kind of a reaction she is expecting, anger would be fitting for a Sith, sorrow might be too hopeful on her part, the same with pride or nostalgia, but she gets nothing from him. There’s no way to see his face, by virtue of his helmet, and his presence in the Force is a brick wall - impenetrable and inscrutable. She opens her mouth to say something - but what?

“Skyguy,” Vader repeats tonelessly, impassioned and seemingly unaffected, if perhaps a little curious.

Luke absolutely beams at his father. “Oh, yeah! Pretty cool, huh? I’ve never had a nickname before - well, some of the guys down in Anchorhead would call me ‘ _wormy_ ’, but I don’t really think that counts. I don’t want it to count.” He laughs.

“Wormy?” At this, Vader is outraged. “Who would call you this? What are their names? That is completely unacceptable.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, really.” Luke shrugs, seemingly unperturbed by his father’s outburst. “I’ll, uh, be right back, I guess.” Luke says, raising the pile of clothing in his hands slightly in explanation.

Without Luke as a buffer, the lounge falls into uncomfortable silence. It’s not one that Ahsoka feels particularly compelled to break, really. She doesn’t have anything to say to Vader that won’t end in a fight and she knows that would be best avoided for now.

“Skyguy,” Vader says again, breaking the quiet on his own. He says the name slowly, carefully, as though sounding out a word he’s never read before.

“I didn’t mean to - it slipped out.” She says. It is an explanation, not an apology. She has nothing to apologize for. The nickname is her own, she made it up, she can do whatever she wants with it - including give it away.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Why should it? Why would I care?”

She wonders sometimes if he is this obtuse on purpose or if the Dark Side really has altered his personality so drastically. She wants to list all of the reasons he might care, but knows that he’ll only say something along the lines of ‘Anakin Skywalker is dead’ or ‘that time is long past’ so she bites her lip instead. Her focus should be on the upcoming confrontation with Sidious, not considering just how dead Anakin Skywalker might be. That, she must save for another time.

* * *

Ben finds himself unable to meet either of his parents’ eyes as he stands and extends a hand to Rey. “We should get going.” He manages to choke out, but only just.

Rey reaches out gently through the bond as she laces her fingers through his, grounding him back in reality. Her presence is a soothing balm to the frayed edges of his soul.

“I understand that the two of you are upset with the current situation,” Ben begins, his eyes still downcast. “I could never forgive myself if anything happened to either of you.” The words feel hollow, knowing what he’s already done, but he can’t fix that now. As ironic as it is, given his current situation, the past is the past. His focus has to be on the present.

“You won’t be born if anything happens to either of us.” Han jokes darkly.

“That’s not why I’m - you’re my parents and I - I care about the both of you.” Rey squeezes his hands in the same way the words squeeze his heart. “As I said, I’ve done -” he shakes his head, knowing that there’s no point in reiterating all of the horrible things he’s done. _Learn from it or drown in it_. “Please, let me protect you now.”

“Yeah, well you’re our son - and we’re not supposed to want to protect you? I've gotta say, I've got a really bad feeling about all of this, kid.”

Ben meets his father’s eyes, his own already misting over quickly. Allowing his parents to face Darth Sidious, to even enter the Imperial Palace, would be unconscionable. He doesn’t know how to convince them of that, so instead he simply says, “ _Please_.”

There’s a somber concession that passes over his parent’s faces, a miserable defeat. They are unhappy but they’re not arguing with him any longer. They follow him and Rey wordlessly into the _Falcon_ ’s lounge where they find a waiting Vader and Ahsoka, the latter looking immensely relieved at their presence. Vader looks the same as ever, of course, and his shields are up so tightly that his presence in the Force is one entirely devoid of emotion.

“You’re all ready to go?” Ahsoka asks, standing, clearly more than ready herself.

“About as ready as we’ll ever be,” Rey answers.

“You’re leaving already?” A distressed sounding Luke calls from behind Ben in the hallway.

He’s dressed in cleaner clothes now, Han’s if Ben’s not mistaken. The yellow of the leather jacket is cheery but Luke’s face is grim, worry shadowing his face.

“We cannot afford to waste any more time.” Vader responds. Luke swallows hard and nods solemnly.

“ _Shit_!” Han curses out of the blue, jump starting Ben’s heart. He cranes his neck around in the direction of the cockpit. “Shit, wait here - don’t leave yet!” He warns before running off to Force-knows-where.

“I will be in constant communication with you.” Vader says, taking a step forwards towards his son. Ahsoka follows him with narrowed eyes but says nothing to stop him. “If I tell you that you must run, you will listen to me.”

“ _Father_!” Luke protests with a whine that catches in the back of his throat.

“Do not fight me on this. I will only do so if absolutely necessary. If I tell you to run you will do as I command. You will run.” Vader’s tone brokers no argument. He reaches out slowly and places one gloved hand on his son’s shoulder. “You will be brave, and you will not look back.” Luke looks up, his eyes shining. He nods even as his jaw trembles.

“Ben,” Han calls out, rounding the corner and re-entering the main corridor. Hearing his name on his father’s lips is, as always, a grim and painful reminder of _that day_ , but Ben pushes past his own, secret discomfort and nods tightly in acknowledgement. “Here, I , uh - ” he holds out a closed fist and grabs Ben’s hand when he doesn’t offer it on his own. “These have gotten me out of a few rough scrapes in the past. Won me the _Falcon_ too, but you probably already know all about that.”

Hand-warmed metal falls into Ben’s open, waiting palm. He knows what he’s been given before he looks down at the two golden dice connected by a thin chain in his hand. He tries and fails to blink back the insistent tears that cloud his vision as he rolls one of the die between his thumb and forefinger, the metal smooth and solid in his grasp. They won’t disappear. Not this time.

Ben’s never had much faith in luck. Whatever lucky star had blessed his father, it had always seemed to Ben that he had been born under its opposite. Like with many things, his opinion on that has changed.

The last time he held these dice Rey had closed the door on him, in more ways than one. Luke was dead and the relief and vindication that Ben had expected had never come, unexplainable guilt and a deep, echoing hollowness greeting him instead. His mother had fled - from him, his empire, his people. His father was dead by his own hand. Forgiveness had seemed impossible and peace lightyears away.

He pulls Rey into his side and presses a kiss into the hair at the top of her head, a reminder that she is here and of how much has changed in a relatively short amount of time. She radiates warmth and Light, bolstering his soul. Between her easily-given love and his father’s truly undue kindness, Ben thinks now that he might be the luckiest person in the galaxy.

“Thank you,” He says, every ounce of will in his body commanding his voice to remain firm. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Figure you all could use all the luck you can get, you know?” Han says gruffly, something that Ben realizes only now, after nearly thirty years of being Han Solo’s son, might just be a mask to cover up emotions slightly harder to deal with than indifference or anger. How much else has he misinterpreted?

He wraps his arms around his father and pulls him into a quickly returned embrace. He sobs a wordless apology into Han’s shoulder.

It’s likely selfish the way he whispers, “I love you, Dad,” but he needs Han to know in any reality that he can manage that it’s true and he may never have a chance to tell him again. Han says nothing but his arms tighten around Ben measurably and his breathing stutters. He’s not sure who pulls ways first, himself or his father, but in the end it doesn’t matter.

He slips the dice into the right breast pocket of his jacket and pats the lump in the leather once to ensure they are secure. “Thank you,” He repeats, his voice warbling a bit more this time, “but we should…”

“Go now? Yeah,” Han nods, inhaling sharply in what sounds almost like a sniffle. “Yeah. May the Force be with you, and all of that.”

He hangs back with his parents to take the rear of the group as they collectively head towards the ship’s entry ramp. Ben is pulled to a stop by a hand fisted in the fabric of his jacket. He turns to find his mother staring up at him, her eyes and the Force around her wild and electric with anxiety.

“Ben,” Her voice is a low, deep rasp. “There’s something I saw… I have to ask you… I…” she trails off, biting her lower lip nervously. Ben feels his heart meet his feet on the floor of the _Falcon_. He nods, encouraging her to continue even as he braces himself for whatever question she might ask. Part of him feels that he already knows, but he just can’t quite bear to think of her seeing _that_ , and the thought of having to answer that question, that _why_? Impossible.

She surprises him. “Why did you not grow up on Alderaan?”

Ben’s lips part slightly as he tries to make sense of the question, the synapses in his brain misfiring at every turn. He forgets, more often than not, that Alderaan is still around. That fact goes so against his knowledge of the universe that his brain tends to refuse to process it.

“You told me yourself that your mother grew up on Alderaan, but you did not.” Ben continues to gape dumbly as Leia pressed on. “Rey mentioned the same thing. You’ve never even visited?” Her voice rises slightly at the end, becoming a high-pitched almost-whine. She breaths and collects herself visibly. When she continues, she does so slowly, each word measured and precise. “I am the princess of Alderaan. I will be queen one day. Why would my son be raised anywhere but Alderaan?” Her eyes harden, as though she already knows the answer but needs to hear it spoken aloud by someone besides herself. “Why, Ben?”

Ben curses himself internally at his inability to keep his stupid mouth shut. “There is no Alderaan in my time.” He admits finally. Leia releases the breath she had been holding shakily and the blood drains from her face, though her eyes hold no shock, no surprise.

“What happened to it?” Ahsoka asks with obvious concern.

“It was destroyed by the first Death Star.”

“ _First_?” Luke squeaks.

Ben curses outwardly this time because _what is_ wrong _with him_? “Yes,” he sighs, seeing no easy way around the truth. At the end of the day it’s something they should probably know. “There’s a second – or, there will be. It’s probably just started construction, in the Endor system, I –”

“Stop revealing sensitive Imperial information!” Vader commands harshly.

Ben shoots his grandfather the most withering stare he can muster before intoning a single word, “no.”

“There’s a second?” Luke asks, clearly struggling to grasp the concept. He leans against the curved corridor wall and runs one hand through his hair.

“And Starkiller Base, though that’s quite a few years off still.” He hums. There’s much more he could tell them, but they’re running out of time. “More later,” he promises even knowing that there’s no way for him to keep it.

“Later,” Leia repeats, warily.

Ben can only nod.

The world outside of the _Falcon_ is all shadows and neon. The sun, if it is still out – Ben has no idea what time of day it is relative to their current location on the planet – it does not permeate this level, so deep are they within the metropolitan planet. The hum of speeder engines can be heard, muffled by distance and thick layers of durasteel walls.

Ben hears the hiss of the _Falcon_ ’s ramp as it rises but he does not look back. There’s no time for that, and really it will only make things harder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks, her words clipped and bordering on accusation, as Vader approaches an unattended speeder just beyond the mouth of the alley they’ve tucked themselves into. It seems unassuming enough, if one chooses to ignore the bright-yellow paintjob.

“We require transportation.” Vader says without bristling at Ahsoka’s tone.

“Yeah, well we need _covered_ transportation, for one.” She huffs. “And for another thing, you can’t just walk out into traffic you’re – look at you,” she gestures at Vader with both hands. “You’re not exactly inconspicuous.”

Vader absorbs the barb wordlessly and stops. A moment of hesitation passes between the four of them. Ahsoka is right. Even though Ben can sense that the walkways on this level are not as busy as they might be, Vader cannot waltz out into a crowd of unassuming pedestrians of any size. He is far too recognizable.

“Just – stay here.” Ahsoka commands, her brow set in a hard line. She points at the ground beneath their feet, at the steam that rises from the grates and the dull orange light that filters in through from the layers and layers of city below.

The walkways here are narrow, with only thin railings separating pedestrians from the deep chasm that stretches from planet surface to core. The area they’re in appears to be a commercial one. Shop signs illuminate the darkness. Pastel-neon lights advertising sweets of all varieties blinks nearby at a temple-throbbing frequency.

“Think that’ll work?” Rey points toward the back of a covered transport jutting out of the mouth of a nearby alley.

As they draw closer, it’s clear that the transport will be large enough to fit them all, it’s regular use apparently for the shipment of ‘ _Aunty Alma’s Honey Cakes_ ’, a brand of pastry Ben is unfamiliar with, likely defunct in his own time. It’s locked, but that hardly proves a barrier for anyone in their group. Ben’s not sure who unlocks the doors but he can hear the tell-tale click of magnetic locks disengaging. The back door rises revealing crates of snack cakes and pastries, the sweet smell of the processed treats nearly overwhelming.

“Anyone hungry?” Ahsoka mumbles with a laugh as Ben and Rey hoist themselves in amongst the boxes.

She climbs into the driver’s seat and the transport rumbles to life without the need of an ignition chip. Carefully, Ahsoka guides the transport back towards the alley where they had left Vader to wait, hidden amongst the thick and convenient shadows.

“I shall drive.” Vader says coolly, after making his way around to the front of the vehicle.

“Obviously,” Ahsoka agrees with a rather disagreeable tone. Still, she climbs over the central console and into the front passenger’s seat. “You’re the one who knows the way.”

Vader points the vehicle up at near-vertical angle. Ben throws his body over Rey’s as crates shuffle and skid and collapse on top of them.

“Hey!” Ben cries out, throwing one crate away into the far wall of the transport. Crinkly plastic-wrapped snacks rain onto the floor. “Watch it!”

“You are fine.” Vader replies, completely and clearly unconcerned.

“Do you think you could at least give us a little warning next time?” Ben asks, brushing himself off and ensuring Rey actually is fine as Vader rights the transport. She seems uninjured, at the very least, and perhaps even a little amused by Ben’s glowering.

“Doubtful.”

Vader drives quickly, recklessly, weaving in and out of layers of traffic as they approach the surface with a fluid ease. Rey is, at least outwardly, undisturbed by the turbulent ride. She climbs over the stacked boxes as they rise to the top-most layer of the city and pokes her head through the small window connecting the front cabin from the trunk of the transport. Awe floods her end of the bond.

“This is – it’s incredible!” She whispers as tall buildings silhouetted by the setting sun whisk by at untenable speeds. “I’ve never sensed so many beings in one place.”

“Never been to Coruscant?” Ahsoka inquires with a light smile.

“No, never.” Rey shakes her head.

“Do you like it?”

“Well, I don’t dislike it, but I don’t think I could stand it for very long. It’s a lot.”

“It can be overwhelming at first,” Vader agrees, surprising them all.

They fall into uncomfortable silence after that, only the rumble of the transport’s engine, the clattering of crates, and the crinkling of snack packaging breaking the quiet.

“So, what happens after?” Ahsoka asks after a time. “Considering we survive.”

“I appreciate your confidence,” Ben huffs, “but maybe we can take that hyperlane when we get to it.” He suggests, a vain attempt to avoid an argument he can see coming a lightyear away.

“I think that is an important conversation to have _before_ ,” Rey says, craning her neck around to stare at Ben pointedly. “Do you disagree, Ben?” Her eyes hold a challenge, they dare him to disagree.

“No,” He says carefully, well aware of the thin ice he is treading upon, “normally I would agree with you completely, I just –”

_We both know which way he’s going to go, Rey. I’d rather deal with that afterwards, not now when we still need his help._

For a moment, it seems like she is going to fight him. Her brows draw together and she opens her mouth in preparation of whatever protest she has prepared, but Vader beats her to it.

“Should we succeed in destroying Sidious, obviously, I will take his place.”

Ben looks Rey directly in the eyes and gestures silently at his grandfather with both hands, as if to say, “ _See, I told you so_!” She seems distinctly unimpressed.

“Absolutely not!” Ahsoka laughs angrily. “You really think I’m going to help you overthrow Palpatine so you can take over right where he left off? You’re something else these days, I’ll tell you what.”

“How, exactly, did you think this would go?” Vader asks coolly. “Tell me, I am curious.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t –” Whatever Ahsoka had been going to say dies on her lips, her voice trailing off into silence as the transport approaches what Ben recognizes as the former Federal District – or, as it stands now, the _current_ Federal District and the _former_ Senate District – the formal core of the Galactic Empire and the informal center of the galaxy. She rounds on Vader again. “I thought we weren’t just wandering straight into the Palace? I swear, if this is a trap –”

“We are not, and it is not.” Vader interrupts, swerves hard to the right, avoiding the Imperial Plaza entirely. “It is unfortunate that the most direct tunnel originates in such close proximity to the Palace, but there is nothing to be done about that.”

“Well, where is it? The Senate Dome?” Ahsoka asks mockingly.

Vader doesn’t answer, but it hardly matters as the transport stops and lands on a nearby landing pad on one of the lower levels of the building. There’s a small veranda to the right of where they park covered in green and blooming flowers, a small overgrown garden that looks more personal than public property. Ahsoka gapes at the building openly, her neck craned at an uncomfortable angle to take the entirety of it in through the limited scope of the viewport. Her recognition is obvious.

“Oh,” she says, her voice hollow and without inflection. “ _That’s_ how you know about these tunnels. Must have been convenient.”

Ben recognizes the building as well. In his own time, the penthouse apartment had been converted into an upscale restaurant specializing in Nabooian cuisine. His mother and uncle had both been invited to the grand opening as honored guests. He’d been brought along, nine-years-old and moping, too worried about whether or not the food would be strange to appreciate the grand views or the history of the place. The restaurant, _The Naboo Queen,_ had been named for its much-revered previous occupant, Padmé Amidala. This is where his grandmother had lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof - that's a long one! I have a feeling that's going to be a running theme with these last few chapters. There's a lot of conversation and action to pack into the chapters at this point. I hope that the extended length is alright - I figure with me going two weeks between chapters instead of one, a longer chapter is a pretty okay trade-off anyway!
> 
> Sorry for the lack of recent action, but we're very nearly out of the 'conversation woods', it's just - these people have a lot to talk about! Haha! But the Future/ Skyguy Sr/ Snips team are on their way to punch Ol' Wrinkles right in his stupid face while the others sit tight in the _Falcon_ , snug as a bug, and definitely _will_ be staying there for sure - 100% they will stay put and not get into trouble, yes, sir! 
> 
> Thanks so, so much, as always, for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments - they mean so much to me and I truly appreciate them so much! Let me know what you thought of this one! What do you think Luke, Leia, and Han are going to do left to their own devices? Play charades? Sing a few space-songs? Knit? It's anyone's guess! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for reading! 😊💕

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: [@Aaveena1](https://twitter.com/Aaveena1)
> 
> Tumblr: [Aaveena](https://aaveena.tumblr.com/)


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